


April DBD Writing

by CalmSpirited



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: 30 day writing challenge, Gryffs April Event, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 39,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23422252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalmSpirited/pseuds/CalmSpirited
Summary: Thanks to Gryff - highdwightofmylife on tumblr - every day of April will be a short ficlet about a DBD character of my choosing.I'm not creative with titles so just roll with it lmao
Comments: 56
Kudos: 103





	1. D.F.

**Author's Note:**

> April 1st - Dwight Fairfield

2020 was  _ so  _ different from 2005 it was unreal.

There was so much…  _ connectability  _ everywhere. Connect here. Connect there. He could see why Jake would want to go into the woods and “disconnect” from everything once in a while, but then again he couldn’t. Everything was so overwhelming and awesome at once, Dwight still didn’t know what to make of the cool, new stuff that was in the house he was staying in, courtesy of Jake’s uber rich family.

The touch-screen stove was the neatest thing. He could control so many things with it, even browse the Internet! The Internet was a lot bigger than what he knew fifteen years ago, and he had a lot to catch up on. The touchscreen fridge was  _ crazy _ ! You could see through it, you could listen to music on it and you could make virtual sticky notes on it that would be read out loud to you. And that’s not even mentioning  _ phones  _ nowadays-

Meg had to slap him a few times so he wouldn’t drool over all the new technology and ruin it with his saliva. Dwight could suddenly see why nobody left their houses anymore and why in-person conversations were far less common than they used to be. On one hand, he was grateful for that because it meant less opportunities for people to make fun of him, but on the other hand he missed actually talking to new people.

_ Speaking of missing…  _ It was 4 a.m, and an urgent pressure in his lower stomach told him that he should’ve gone easy on the tea tonight because he had to  _ piss  _ like a racing horse. Throwing off the covers with a groan, Dwight quickly slipped on his slippers and entered the bathroom, throwing up the toilet lid harder and louder than he had anticipated and relieved himself. He’s half-asleep, so he misses at first and he can already  _ hear  _ Meg screaming at the top of her lungs about  _ why do men MISS so much?? This is why y’all are the inferior gender-  _ so after he’s done he cleans up  _ (not that he wouldn’t anyway) _ and quickly rinses his hands off to jump back into bed-

A thump sounds from outside his door. Suddenly, Dwight is not as sleepy as he just was. Eyes wide and blurry, the man’s mind suddenly races with all sorts of horrible thoughts? Is it an intruder? Robbers? A serial killer coming to kill them all? Well, if it was, they had picked the  _ wrong  _ people to…  _ serial kill?... _

The noise comes again, this time closer, and Dwight goes into full ex-Survivor mode. Silently as a pig, Dwight darts over to grab his glasses off his nightstand and shoves them on his face. The noise sounds again and Dwight reaches behind the headboard of his bed and pulls out the baseball bat he keeps behind there for paranoid reasons, remembering his few days as a Little Leaguer and readying the bat at his shoulders as he approaches his bedroom door. Every step he takes makes his body hum with adrenaline, and he hears his heart racing in his ears, his blood rushing through his body, every nerve ending in his body electrified and tingling with a primal rush as he grabs his door knob and  _ pulls!- _

He’s greeted with an empty hallway. He quickly looks around and spots no one- but a mechanical noise at his feet startles him so bad he lands flat on his ass and the bat clatters to the floor beside him with a loud  _ clang!  _ It’s the Roomba at his feet, black with the blue light on top of it letting Dwight know that it was on a sweeping job, keeping the floors clean. 

As Dwight watches the device go down the hallway, he laughs at himself for being so, so stupid! He was scared shitless over the vacuum cleaner! They had all just gotten it last week and had yet to figure out how to set the timer for it, and Jake had already fallen over it a few days ago when he got up to go outside and didn’t realise it had moved to sweep in front of his chair.

Well, at least the floor would be clean. Dwight picked himself and his baseball bat up off the floor and put the bat back where he had it before heading to the bathroom again. He may or may not have shit his pants and he needs to double check before getting into bed.


	2. B.B.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April 2nd - Benedict Baker

He hadn’t been able to keep track of time forever, so Benedict knows he’s been here longer than the 22,548 days, 13 hours, 34 minutes and 5 seconds he’s counted. How much longer is anyone’s guess, but Benedict knows one thing for sure, and that is that somewhere along the line, he somehow managed to break free of the Trials, in a way. 

The Entity doesn’t personally summon him for games anymore, but that doesn’t mean he can’t accidently wander into one in progress and become a player. The last time he did he faced the new killer, the Deathslinger, and was on the painful receiving end of his harpoon gun that eviscerated his guts to spill them all over the dusty ground to bleed out.

Now, he just mostly wanders around the never-ending forests that the Entity seems to loop and repeat just for him as he’s found that he could literally walk forever and watch the trees cycle like the seasons. He takes notes as he walks and discovers something new, which is more often than one might think because with every new campfires he sees, there are new people to observe, talk to, gain insight from- even if he’s spoken to the same people over and over again.

He thought he had started to lose his mind when he had talked to one fellow survivor that he had  _ thought  _ he had talked to before, only for the survivor to shake their head at him and tell him that he had never talked to him before. Puzzled, he had thought that maybe the survivor had just forgotten due to trauma or perhaps the Entity meddling with memories as it sometimes does to protect survivors from the harshest of traumas  _ (a cruel way to keep them sane enough to continue feeding it) _ , but after a few more questions he had discovered that even though the survivors looked and essentially were the same, they had evidently lived different lives and were different people.

Benedict learned the importance of how just one single event can change a person’s life and throw their trajectory of fate completely off course. The most he’s counted is that one person had 12 different variants of themselves, and as far as he knows, they had never met another one of themselves. It was amazing and mind-blowing at the same time, and he finds it requires a little bit of insanity to ingest it all. He’s found that even suggesting to other survivors that they have other versions of themselves sends them for a loop and most of the time they shrug him off and say that he’s crazy.

Maybe he is. Maybe all these changes that he’s seen aren’t real; maybe he hasn’t been gone for over a hundred years and maybe people haven’t changed as radically as he’s thought. Maybe… he’s just in a coma, or he’s locked up in a sanitorium and being spoon-feed mercury-laced medication, or perhaps he has the slow fever or consumption and is out of his mind sick. But that doesn’t explain how long he’s been here, or how all of this pain has felt so  _ real  _ or how his mind has managed to conjure up all of this.

Sometimes, he wanders into killers territory. Most of the time, they either chase him away or… catch him. Those are the times he’s glad the Entity interferes before things get too far and he wakes up at a random campfire scattered across the world of the Entity, but sometimes,  _ sometimes _ , the killers take pity on him and leave him be as long as he doesn’t bother them too much. Very rarely, he’s been able to observe survivors during trials without having to join them at their side, and it’s amazing how they act during times of extreme stress, fear and pain. How selfless or selfish they become, how often they put personal differences aside or let them ruin others, how some of them make the ultimate sacrifice or how they might hide in a closet until all the others die.

And after all of this, Benedict’s not sure if he wants to escape or not. If he were to escape, what year would it be? 1895? 1905? 2205? Would he be able to live, to survive in a world that, by what he’s already witnessed, so radically changed that he’s not able to recognize it anymore? Clearly, women have decided to forgo their long dresses for increasingly less clothing, horses and trains are no longer the main transportation- the world moves a lot faster now without him in it, and he’s worried that if he were to rejoin it, it would slow down the spin of the Earth.

Or perhaps, he’s just too crazy to go back: the Entity may be keeping him here to protect those on the outside from him. Now, wouldn't that be a cruel twist of fate.


	3. J.P.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake stumbles across an abandoned shack in the middle of the forest filled with goodies.
> 
> Whoops this got away from me. Also, it is my birthday! Thank u Gryff for letting my brithday be Jake Park day. I bwess u

Jake spat in the dirt at his feet because if he didn’t, he would’ve thrown up whatever he had in his stomach. His knees ached.

_ God, I’m getting old.  _

He had just been taking his usual  _ “I don’t want to talk to people right now so I’ll make myself scarce in the forest” _ walk in the woods when suddenly, the world at his feet warped painfully and the landscape in front of him made a few changes. Namely, those yellow, glowing plants were back again, and a small shack appeared in front of him, different from the shacks normally seen in trials. Overgrown with vines and in desperate need of some TLC, it was certainly derelict, but not dilapidated like the normal ones were.

It was a place that looked like he could squat in it for a while and catch some shut eye without being  _ disturbed  _ by anyone or anything. In fact, by the time that Jake had dusted himself off and walked towards the slightly ajar door, he felt like just curling up in a cobweb-filled corner and sleeping until he woke up to have a perfectly timed midlife crisis.

That was, until he opened the squeaky door and saw what was  _ inside  _ the abandoned shack, then his plans changed on a dime. Sure, there were a couple of boards and loose bricks lying on the floor from what looked like weather and wild animal damage, but it was actually like a little studio apartment… for someone in the occult. The moonlight streaming in from the holes in the wall and from the open door let Jake see what looked like a tiny little science lab on a long, plain-looking wooden table in the corner of the shack right next to a window with a square pane missing.

The little glass vials and  _ needles?  _ had collected dust from sitting there so long, but there were little flecks of orange-reddish residue that had Jake scratching his head as he pondered what it might be. 

He wasn’t stupid enough to go up and touch it to find out, though, so he turned his attention to a rat or two that were chilling in a dark corner, there red eyes gazing up at him expectantly like he was going to feed them.

Jake waved his arms at the rats a few times. “Shoo!” He didn’t yell or even speak loudly, but the rats fled all the same out of a small hole where a brick had been knocked loose so fast that the cloth that they had been standing on fluttered with their movement and revealed a hint of something underneath. Making sure his gloves were on, Jake cautiously picked up the cloth that they were on and realized that it was more of a  _ tarp  _ than a piece of cloth.

Pulling up the corner of it revealed… another corner. Pulling it back farther revealed a box- no, a chest, and not like a chest that the Entity scattered about for them sometimes in trials for shitty equipment, but like an actual  _ proper _ chest. Eyebrows furrowing, Jake pulled the rest of the tarp off with a grunt of force because  _ Jesus that thing was really heavy _ and marveled at how  _ real  _ the chest seemed. Like it was an actual, real chest that someone had personally dragged in here.

It was dark wood bound in leather that had curled along the edges due to age, covered in a fine layer of dust and had two straps with buckles on either side of the front in place of a lock. The odd thing standing out was it wasn’t actually buckled, and there were flecks of that same orange-reddish residue splattered in a few places around one of the buckles.

He thought about if he should  _ really  _ open the chest for a moment. This was clearly someone else’s- someone who hasn’t been around here for a long, long time, and it would be rude to go through someone else’s things. But then again, people went through his shit all the time here so why the fuck not?

Making sure to avoid touching the flecks, Jake knelt down and braced himself to lift up the lid, and the lid hit the back of the brick wall with so much force that Jake was scared for a moment that he might’ve just knocked a wall down. The bricks and slats of wood creaked loudly and swayed violently for a moment, but settled as dust and cobwebs off the wall slowly floated down and piled on top of everything below it, including him.

He sneezed. The walls shook again, sending more dust on him but this time he lowered his head out of the way so the sneezing cycle wouldn’t continue on. Finally, when he was sure he was safe from sneezing again, Jake let go of the now open lid and peered into the now open chest. 

Inside were just a few objects: some clothes with some flecks on them, a box that was tightly wrapped and bound with leather tucking into the corner, and on top of all of that was an unopened, yellow letter addressed to  _ Whomever may find this  _ with a few more flecks of orange and red along the edges of it, almost in the shape of a handprint.

Clearly, whoever owned this place wasn’t coming back, Jake concluded. Looking all around to make sure the owner wasn’t going to mysteriously pop back in and kill him for messing with their stuff, Jake reached it and poked the letter to make sure there were no  _ surprises  _ before using a single gloved finger to turn the letter over. There was a small line of flecks on the back of it as well, like a thumbprint to go with the handprint on the front.

Picking it up felt like grabbing parchment, the envelope was so old and crinkly Jake was concerned that if he pressed down too hard on it, the letter would rip. Luckily, the envelope wasn’t sealed and he pulled out the letter, squinting his eyes to read its contents.

_ “To whomever may find this,  _ it started,  _ I do not have much time. My sanity is wavering in and out and I fear I may not have enough time to write everything I need to down. My name is Vigo-”  _ wait, Vigo? He’s heard of that name before in one of those weird notebooks that they sometimes find. He’s pretty sure he was a survivor at some point “- _ and I have been conducting all kinds of experiments with everything imaginable here. Some have been… less than ethical I’ll admit, but really, who abides by ethics here?”  _ Honestly, that’s more true than Jake would like to admit.

_ “I must warn whoever finds this:  _ **_DO NOT INJECT YOURSELF WITH THE YELLOW LIQUID IN THIS CHEST!_ ** _ -”  _ The sudden bold and heavy writing caught Jake off guard, and it seems to have caught the writer off guard as well because the ink from the exclamation point carried over to the next few words, making it very difficult to read  _ “-injecting it into your bloodstream causes you to become a mindless addict, a Blight Junkie is the term used on the Terra Worlds, and you will crave it more than anything. You will harm and kill anyone to get it, as… I have personally discovered in a moment of weakness.” _

Okay, don’t mainline the drugs, got it.

_ “Injecting yourself with it, I discovered and already know, gives you what’s called a ‘superhero complex’. You think you can do anything, be anything, fight anything- and there is some truth to this feeling. The Blight does give you enhanced regenerative abilities, cognitive abilities, combat abilities, and such much more. But at the price of eventual fatal addiction if help isn’t sought immediately after, and even then sometimes you cannot be helped. You crave more Blight until you overdose on it or you cannot find enough to slate your hunger and your body, desperate for it, auto-cannibalises your internal organs for it. Both of these are horrible ways to die, which is why I have taken the time to explain it all.” _

_ “However-”  _ A new paragraph starts  _ “-it has been observed, and I have discovered myself through less than ethical experiments, that an  _ _ extremely  _ _ diluted form of liquid Blight is ingestible through the mouth in small quantities. For every ounce of Blight, you must dilute it with 10 ounces of water. Of this, you may drink no more than 4 fluid ounces to produce small, variable effects until the effects wear off.”  _

Another paragraph started, but this one wasn’t… right.  _ “Some effects can be some of the ones listed above as a superhero complex, or increased libidor dunken behvio - I hada cat named G I G I gigi was really cute when I was a child living in Italy mi piaceva molto passeggiare con la mamma per strada per comprare pane fresco ma ci siamo trasferiti in Norvegia-”  _ And then after that, the words blurred together in a rushed and squished way, as if the writer couldn’t get it out fast enough. The languages kept changing, some of the letters weren’t even ones he recognized, until it switched back to Enligh for half a line to talk about…  _ fish fillets?  _

Jake suddenly remembered that he loved the fish fillets that he used to buy from a local fisherman when he lived out in the woods. He hadn’t had one in  _ years-  _ the writing in the letter stopped suddenly. There was a large black space about two fingers wide separating the jumbled mess from the new coherent paragraph underneath.

_ “I would mark the above out, but I would like to show that  _ **_that_ ** _ is one of the side effects of directly injecting Blight into your bloodstream: sporadic loss of sanity that progresses with time. I am amazed that I lasted as long as I did. I’ll try to pick up from before: you may ingest small amounts of diluted forms of Blight if you are a Terra Obscuritas. If you don’t know what that word means, you are one. However, I have found that I can inject the Killers of the Entity up to 16 ounces of Blight via a hypodermic needle to provide the same effects as stated above. Above 16 ounces is where they become unstable and dangerous to hold. Their connection to the Entity will become strengthened and they will be hyper aggressive, ravenous, mutated and their thirst for blood will be through the roof.” _

The words themselves become shaky, Jake notes, as another small paragraph starts.  _ “For the Killers, however, it seems that either they themselves or the Entity cleanses and purges them after a while and they will return to their normal state. I have thought about injecting a Survivor but I have not yet devolved to that state normal though  _ **_I TRIED ONCE but_ ** _ I could not take advan guardia sono così affamato che devo avere quel fiore, ne ho bisogno, DEVO CONTINUARE A SCRIVERE, non posso iiii-” _

More nonsense with more non-English lettering and ink and red flecks, then another break in the letter until it picked for the final, shaky time at the bottom, almost in a postscript fashion:

_ “I’m sorry. I can’t continue. The Hallowed Blight is around Halloween and lasts about 2 weeks. There the Entity produces Blight to purge itself. Of everything. The Entity needs all of this to survive but something it gets out of it builds up until it has to Purge. Im sorry i cant write anymore its too much please dont be a fool like me. I have to escape I will try and leave my notebooks for you to study because I can slip inbetween the cracks of the Realms but i cant think straight i have to have that flower. Im sorry im sorry im sorryimsoryica ant i-Vigo Di Cristofaro” _

The letter ended after he signed his name abruptly. No phone number, or direction of where he went, no date, nothing. Jake got the sense that the man signing his name was probably the last sane thing he did besides put all this in the box for whoever stumbles in here next. It made him feel bad for the man- all the work and experiments that he had done that would probably benefit them  _ all  _ in trying to escape this place was lost forever.

Jake skimmed over the letter another time, taking mental notes to read some lines again as they either intrigued him or had another meaning when near the ending he reread the part where Vigo said he would try and leave notebooks for him. Holding the letter at his side, Jake looked around the shack for any signs of fabled notebooks, but sadly found none. There was a little shelf built into the wall next to the table that looked as if it could’ve held books at one point, but now it was empty.

Walking up to it, Jake ran his hand across one of the shelves surface and found it to be relatively dustless. Only a few dust bunnies flew into his nose, and there was not a cobweb to be found. His lips pursed; it was like someone had taken the books after Vigo had abandoned this place-

There was a crackling noise outside that Jake recognized in some form or another as the Entity doing something. Usually, it was the noise it made when it came down to stab you on the hook or to come up out of the ground to crunch you up when you stayed too long in a trial, but after a few moments, Jake remained uneaten. 

Figuring that the Entity was going to catch wind of his shenanigans sooner rather than later, Jake returned his attention to the chest and it’s contents. He pulled out the clothes first, discovering that there was a full outfit: glasses and a face scarf, a shirt with an overvest, and a pair of pants, shoes, and an apron plus numerous other accessories. Draping it all over his arm, Jake reached in and pulled out the small box and saw a bunch of vials laying in the bottom of the chest, some broken but all covered in those flecks that seemed to be  _ everywhere.  _

He picked up a few non-broken ones to slip into this little shoulder sack that was mixed in with the clothes, and then looked at the box he had placed on the ground next to him. With one hand, he carefully undid the leather that bound the box’s lid and was a little bit surprised when the leather nearly broke into pieces as he pulled it off and let it drop to the ground. Inside the box were more of the vials, but they were filled with flecks to the point where it was a liquid. Each vial had a little cubby of its own, and each vial was filled a little over halfway full, stopped with a cork.

There were much louder creaking noises outside, and suddenly the air became a lot hotter than it had been a few moments ago. The floor under his feet started to vibrate with the intensity of the noises, and Jake made the wise decision to pack up and leave before the Entity busted down the already fragile walls. Clothes and sack still draped over his arm, Jake carefully placed the box in his hand until he could tuck it into the crook of his arm and slid the letter into his sack. Giving the room one last look to make sure he didn’t miss anything important, Jake headed for the door and cautiously pushed it open-

And his jaw  _ dropped.  _ He’s not quite sure what he’s seeing, but he knows he’s never seen it before. There’s a long pink vine thing wrapping around several large trees, and it’s moving and squirming in all directions, wrapping itself further and further around more of the trees, and every tree it grips turns yellow and starts spitting out-

Wait. It’s fall, right? Last year, something like this happened, too. There were these yellow flowers and plants that popped up in trials and around the campfire, right around Halloween when Laurie and the Shape joined their ranks. Is this what Vigo calls the Blight? It would make a lot of sense if it was-

There’s sudden warmth on his arms, starts on his arms and travels to his whole torso, face, legs- Jake looks down, and suddenly he's  _ wearing  _ the clothes that he had just carried out. He almost drops the box and letter in shock because he was  _ not  _ expecting for the Entity to be playing dress-up right now. And what’s even more shocking is that all the flecks of orange and red on him had suddenly started to glow a bright yellow and felt very, very warm, almost hot. The survivor opens up the box again to see that all the vials were now filled with yellow liquid- Blight, he thinks- and the warmth emanated through the box into his arm.

There’s so much to think about and digest, but when a tree is snapped in half by the pink vine-tentacle thing, Jake decides that it’s better to think at the safety of the campfire. Maybe the rest of his teammates can help him decipher what’s in this letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot take: I'm a huge alternative universe/time travel/history nerd and headcanon that Terra Primus exists on a world where The Roman Empire didn't shit itself and have a Literal Crisis in the 3rd century because it's dick was too big for its togas.
> 
> Also I made Vigo Italian? Why? Because I can see him having Dwight Claudette and Jake as apprentices and they mess up something and he just starts scolding them in angry Italian. Claudette cries in French and Dwight is "pls dont yell at me Daddy Mario" and Jake tells him "no he's Luigi" and they all get fired. The End. That's Tome 3- Escalation in a nutshell.


	4. P.O.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phillip knows that's some underhandedness going on where he works, but he can turn a blind eye as long as he's not involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this isn't really long compared to yesterday but! It's love the Wraith day! so we love this mozzarella stick leg ass man! I've like never thought about writing for this man before but now i have and I quite like his character monkaS
> 
> Have fun on this FOURTH of April! And if it's already the fifth for you then you're in the wrong time zone, heckers.

_ Crunch! _

He couldn’t read English the best, but he had always understood symbols and pictures more, anyways.

_ Crunch! _

He was a good listener, too. He had always prided himself on that, and he’s sure it’s how he managed to survive back in his home country:  _ listen for danger,  _ his mother had always told him,  _ and you can hear it coming enough to avoid it. _

_ Crunch! _

Phillip wanted to stay out of trouble. That’s all he wanted. If he didn’t, he could lose his job, his small apartment, his immigration status- he loved his home country, but he did  _ not  _ want to go back. It was too dangerous and corrupt. Not that this job was free of suspicious activities, either, but his boss assured him that all Phillip had to do was work some levels, push some buttons, and crush cars into tiny cubes. Sometimes, his boss waved him over to show him how to fix some parts when one of his mechanics called in sick. 

_ Crunch! _

He found he liked working on cars. He already had a little bit of talent for it- back in his home country, his father used to own a small car shop that they ran on their farm. His mother would always complain that he spent more time working on cars than helping on the farm  _ (which he really did) _ , but it brought in some extra money, so mother didn’t complain too much. Sometimes, he would let him sit on a stool or basket and let him work, or hand him tools or parts as a little helper. Those were the best days of his childhood- until corruption took nearly everything from his family, including their little car shop.

_ Crunch! _

He remembers being desperate. His father was desperate, his mother was desperate, his siblings being desperate, remembers hearing his parents stomach’s rumbling through the night as they went hungry to make sure he and his siblings didn’t after the military coup took nearly all of their land from them and burned all their crops because his family tried to remain neutral. He ended up stealing parts from cars and selling them for scrap to make a couple of dollars, enough to feed them for a week or two.

_ Crunch! _

He didn’t get married, he didn’t try to get to a bigger city or another neighboring country to get a job for slave wages because he wanted to save enough money so he would be able to buy a passport to get to America; the land of gold streets, milk and honey, the land of promise and the American Dream- it was the only way out of the cycle of crime he was slowly embedding himself and his family into. He had wanted to take his family with him, but they begged him to go, go first and maybe you can earn enough money in America to bring us with you-

“Ojomo!”

His boss brought him out of his monotonous motions with a shout of his name, and Phillip took off his protective headset to hear what his boss had to say.

“Finish up with these cars right here!” His bosses fat fingers decorated with all kinds of gaudy jewelry pointed to the cars and then back to Phillip. “And you can go home early today! Got a meeting in half an hour and you need to make yourself scarce before then, got it?”

Phillip nodded. He knew what that meant. Azarov had some shady dealings to do and Phillip didn’t want to get involved. “Yes, sir.” He answered with a small smile and a thumbs up before slipping his headset back on and pulling the levers and pushing buttons until all the cars were crushed into small, human-sized cubes. It was a simple and easy job that paid the bills and got him one step closer to citizenship. He was a simple man and wanted simple things.

Getting down from his crushing station, Philip left the heatset in the small cubby underneath the controls and headed down the ramp, bending his head so his tall frame doesn’t give him a bump on the head. His boss gives him a pleased smile as he enters the office to clock out for the day, and Azarov even gives him a $10 for making him leave so early.

“Go get yourself somethin’ to eat.” He said, but Phillip knew he was just making sure he was gone for the day. He wondered if his boss knew if he knew. “It’s still early enough to catch a late lunch.”

“Yes, thank you sir.” But Phillip smiled. He knew shady people like small smiles because it made them feel like they’re pulling the wool over his victims eyes, so he smiled to appease Azarov. Internally, he knew he did it because he was an immigrant with some good but extremely limited skills and he couldn’t afford to lose this job because he would struggle to find another, but his pride wouldn’t allow him to admit it. He pocketed the ten and thanked his boss once again and wished him a good afternoon.

He stepped outside, and a crow cawed loudly overhead. The sun was bright with a few clouds overhead, and the warm rays of the sunlight warmed his face and filled his body with energy. Pocketing the money, Phillip smiled as the Gods smiled upon him, blessing him for his hard work and perseverance even in a land where his Gods had no place or building to live in, nobody but him to worship them and give them the strength they need to live in this land in exchange for them to give him prosperity. And for his family to join him. 

His mouth salivated when he thought of the small coffee shop that sold delicious baked goods as he hopped on his bike. Today, he would eat well.


	5. Q.S.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin needs to sleep. That's it. And gets kidnapped. GGEZ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quentin needs to sleep! He's a good boy! But I have never watched any of the NOES movies so I have no idea how he actually is, hence why this is so short and lackluster. Sorry in advance, but I did try ;;;;( Please be appeased by my Quentin offering

Quentin can’t remember the last time he slept, like, a good sleep. Just an opportunity to actually sleep here is few and far between, and for the chronic, helpless insomniac it meant that sleep? Wasn’t on the menu. No rainchecks.

He couldn’t- didn’t  _ want  _ to sleep, not when Freddy was here, not only for his friend’s sake but for his own as well. But as much as he tried to deny it, he knew he would have to sleep at some point, whether it be because the Entity said Nap Time or his body gave up on him. But he fought it like hell up until the point where he stood up to poke the campfire with a stick in a desperate attempt to keep himself awake and he blinked.

Next thing he knew, he was being slapped on the face and voices around him were screaming at him to wake up.

His eyes were bigger than saucers as he saw David pulling his closed fist back to actually punch him in the face, and he sat up with a scream of “I’M AWAKE! NO NEED TO HIT ME, AHAHAHA!”, waving his arms up in the air, especially in front of David.

“Oh my God, Quen-” Meg breathed, her eyes roving over his form and pointing at his chest. “-there’s soot and dirt all over your clothes!”

“What?” He asked, and looked down to see that there was, in fact, soot and dirt all over his clothes that he has no recollection of getting dirty. “Why- where did this come from?” He asked, trying to wipe it off but it just smeared all over his hands and floated in the air in front of them, making several of the survivors hovering over him sneeze and wipe their eyes.

“Lad, you jus’ fell over!” David exclaimed, grabbing him by the lapels of his blue jacket and lifting him straight up on his feet, catching him when he wobbled. “You were messin’ with the fire and you fell in it! You nearly burned yourself.”

“Oh.” Quentin said, not all too surprised by what David told him. It’s not the first, nor the worst, thing that he’s done when on that dangerous verge of sleep deprivation and just passing the hell out regardless of what he’s doing or what’s going on. He’s actually fallen asleep a couple of times while dangling on the hook, or while he was crawling towards the hatch on the ground- and now even more of his friends were crowding around him.

“What?” He asked. They all looked surprised.

“What?” Dwight echoed, poking his bald head up over the crowd. “Quentin, you clearly need to sleep-”

“No! No, I’m fine!” The mere mention of him going to sleep was enough to send a weak surge of adrenaline through his system, sending his already frayed nerves another shockwave of tingly sensations prickling all of his joints. He wiggled out of David’s gasp and sat back down on the log, not trusting himself to stay upright at the moment. “I’m-I’m fine guys, really!” He tried to reassure, but everyone’s face told him that they weren’t buying it.

“Quentin, you are  _ not  _ fine.” Jane was on him in an instant, spreading her arms out and busting her way through the crowd around him, blanket slung over her arm. His eyes went wider, and he tried to scramble away from what he knew was coming.

“No, I promise I took a nap earlier! I swear I got plenty of sleep then!”

“Yeah, and when was that? Five centuries ago?” Meg shook her head, pigtails moving so fast that Quentin saw triple. She approached him too now, pressing down on his shoulders so he couldn’t get up while Jane wrapped his shoulders in the blanket. He felt assaulted. “You’re gonna sleep  _ now-  _ no arguing!” Meg kept her hands on his shoulders when he tried to get up again as Jane fastened the blanket with a baby pin in the back, effectively restraining him like a mental patient.

“Listen, listen, I’m fine! I don’t-” And then he yawned, and Quentin knew he had sealed the deal. The only way he could escape, he figured, was by waddling away as fast as he could. His arms may be restrained, but he still had his legs!

“Quen.” The soft voice of Claudette sneaked in through the crowd, and Quentin suddenly lost all resolve to fight. “You need to sleep. You can’t continue like this.” She came forward, everybody parting for her like the Red Sea, and she pulled a pillow- an honest to God pillow- and helped him slide off the log to the empty space behind it and put the pillow behind his head.

“But-”  _ No buts.  _ Claudette pulled another blanket out of God knows where and laid it over him, making sure to tuck all the ends under him to ensure that he couldn’t get away. He tried to keep his eyes open, but as the blankets warmed his body and he found himself unable to, especially when Claudette took off his beanie and ran a gentle hand through his curly hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead as she pulled back. Kneeling on one knee, Claudette gave him one of her fond smiles.

“I know you may not want to sleep-” She started “-but you have to at some point.”

“ _ Want  _ is an understatement.” Quentin mumbled, trying to twist fitfully in his cocoon, but he found himself unable to move more than a few inches either way. A chuckle from overhead made him look back at his main captor who was looking at him with mirth.

“Well, I  _ want  _ you to sleep.” Claudette got up, brushing off her knees and giving him a small wave as she left. “So sleep. Good night.”

People really underestimated how passive aggressive Claudette could be sometimes. Nobody ever saw it coming.


	6. K.Y.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kazan has a Bad Day. I'm getting lazy with these descriptions lol.
> 
> highdwightofmylife on tumblr is great and you should join their discord server

“Father! Father!”

_ I marvel at how my own father managed to stand me clinging to his legs like this.  _ Nevertheless, Kazan shooed away the attendant who had been handing him documents to look over to bend down to his son’s height. “What makes you so clingy, Akito? I’m very busy-”

Akito, clearly too excited to wait for his father to finish speaking, clung to his father’s knees harder and his squeaky voice echoed throughout the halls of the Yamaoka Estate. “You’d promised you’d train with me today! After breakfast you said you would.” Kazan frowned. The memory of promising his son that he would train with him was suddenly clear in his mind, but… very important papers came from a neighboring samurai family, and from the shogunate itself, that he could not ignore now.

Looking down on his son’s expectant face, he knew he couldn’t ignore his son either nor did he wish to break his promise. It would not set a good example for his son to show that promises could be broken so easily. He gave his son a soft smile, and put his hand atop of his head as a fatherly gesture.

“I know I promised.” He started, searching for the right words to say to save face. “But- there were important papers delivered to me this morning and I must respond to them as soon as possible!”

His son’s face immediately fell, and Kazan felt his heart twist painfully in his chest. “You’re not going to-”

“I will!” He picked him up with one arm and tucked him underneath his sternum, delighting in the way his son laughed and squirmed with his actions. “I will train with you today as soon as I am finished.” Walking towards the large doors that led outside, Kazan all but kicked them open and threw his son down in the grass with a soft toss.

“As  _ soon  _ as you are finished?” Akito gave him a cynical stare and crossed his arms over his chest, giving him a pout from where he was sitting in the grass, legs splayed out. 

“ _As_ _soon_ as I am finished.” Kazan leaned down and plucked his son’s fat bottom lip inbetween his fingers. “Young warriors do not pout when they are told they must wait. They do other things to pass the time.” He let go and stood upright, waiting for Akito to respond.

And to his approval, his son smiled and jumped to his feet, running off towards the other children who were playing around the trees. Kazan had meant  _ go do chores  _ or  _ practice your reading and writing _ , but as long as Akito was keeping himself occupied and off of his legs, Kazan really couldn’t complain. Well, he  _ could _ , but if he started to complain he would waste more time redirecting Akito than getting his own work done. 

Kazan turned around and went back inside, summoning the attendant he had sent away earlier back. If he would be fortunate enough, he could be finished with his responses and training with Akito by lunch.

~~~

With all proper seals affixed and tolls paid to a messenger, Kazan sent another footman to fetch the training equipment he had specifically made for his son  _ (who was unfortunately a bit smaller than most children his age and the Yamaoka set could not fit him)  _ and stepped back out into the foyer of the Yamaoka Estate-

A loud sound was heard from outside, a noise that Kazan at first thought was the sound of maybe a cart wheel breaking under the weight of a heavy load or perhaps some firewood was dropped, but the screams that followed were heartwrenching, and made his blood run cold. Whatever his footmen could not hold in his hands clattered to the ground as Kazan instantly thrusted everything that he was holding into his arms and busted through the doors, eyes scanning everything within sight to find what was causing such a ruckus among the common folk.

The first thing that instantly caught his attention was a child in a tall pine tree frantically scrambling down from a great height, but once Kazan had deducted that it was not his son in the tree, he turned his attention to the large crowd of people beginning to gather at the base of the tree around a small, unmoving form lying prone in an awkward position near the roots. 

Even though the person on the ground was turned away from him, he could tell by the clothes that it was his son. Feeling as if he had just jumped into a frozen lake on the coldest day of the coldest winter, Kazan stood still for a moment as the world struggled to catch up with him. 

It only took a second for his body to catch up with his brain, and he jumped down the whole set of staircase of the Yamaoka Estate and sprinted towards the tree. “AKITO!” He screamed, running faster than everyone else and called his son’s name again. _ “AKITO! ANSWER ME!” _

His son did not answer him as he skidded to a halt at his son’s body, dirt and mud flying everywhere when he laid hands on his son’s body. “Akito!” He gave him a solid shake, but his son made no movement to answer him or show that he was awake despite his eyes being slightly open. Gripping his son’s arms, he had meant to turn him over when the Yamaoka doctor’s voice came yelling behind him.

“Lord Kazan, don’t move him!” The doctor’s voice broke though his haze of panic. “You may injure him worse!” The doctor reached him in a moment, removing his hands from his son’s body and replacing them with his own to feel his son’s head and spine. Normally, Kazan would be insulted with such a bold gesture, but he was a samurai, not a healer and had no idea how to treat his son’s injuries.

“His skull is sound and his spine is intact.” The doctor pronounced, still inspecting Akito’s body as he turned up to look at the crowd of common folk gathered around. “What happened? How is he injured?”

“I- He fell!” A farmer proclaimed, pointing up at the tree they were all gathered around. “He was playing with my daughter in the tree, and the beach underneath him broke!” Kazan and the doctor both looked up at the tree to see if they could spot where the branch broke, and they saw it near the top of the tree, a long ways away from the ground. 

“It is a miracle he’s still alive.” The doctor commented, and then asked for Kazan’s help to gently turn him on his back an inch at a time. As Akito was turned, the grass beneath then was revealed to be a bright red and the scent of copper was unmistakingly the smell of blood. Quick movements of the doctors hands over his son’s body came with the declaration of “It’s his leg.” as his son’s eyes finally fluttered open with a hazy gaze.

“Father.” His son croaked out, looking all around in confusion. “Father.” He repeated, brows furrowing together and face becoming pale. He locked eyes with his son who stared past him. “F-father-”

“What’s wrong with him?” Kazan asked the doctor with an increasing sense of urgency and anger in his voice, desperate to know what was wrong with his son and why. Why was his son in the tree? Who was watching him-

“His leg is severely broken. His lower leg bone is piercing his skin, hence why he’s bleeding so much. He’s stunned-” The doctor stood up and paced a hand on Kazan’s shoulder then walked away to command the crowd. “Do not let him move! Someone, fetch me a sturdy, flat surface!” 

Kazan stared at his son as his eyes flickered back and forth, muttering a few things over and over, not responding to anything he was asking him with any sense. As he watched his son’s eyes start to tear and a noise of pain slipped through his ramblings, Kazan’s chest filled with rage, and his eyes turned upwards and landed on the farmer who said his daughter had been climbing the tree with his son when he fell.

The farmer was holding his crying daughter close, saying something to the doctor that he couldn’t hear because the blood was rushing,  _ pounding  _ in his ears, all throughout his body. A dark wrath filled him, and Kazan laid his son back down on the ground flat and stood up, heading straight for the farmer and his daughter with his fists clenched.

The farmer never saw it coming. Kazan reared back his fist and punched the farmer so hard that the man instantly recoiled so hard he fell to the ground with his daughter on top of him who stopped crying as soon as Kazan struck her father. With a roar, Kazan picked up the daughter and threw her to the side like a ragdoll, ignoring the way her body collided loudly with a horse-drawn cart and the way she screamed in pain and clutched her dislocated shoulder.

Another kick to the farmer. To his legs, to his chest, to his stomach- the farmer, managed to get to his feet and put other people between himself and Kazan who simply pushed and shoved people out of his way as he screamed and raged about the farmer letting his son get hurt, about how his daughter hurt his son, about how-

“Kazan, stop at once!” His father’s voice instantly dispelled some of the rage inside of him, and a strong set of hands on his shoulders made him stop in his tracks and turn around. Renjiro was looking at him with a burning intensity of  _ something  _ in his eyes that Kazan never wanted to see again. His father was breathless, hair flying around, knocked loose of its tie and guided him away from the farmer who had taken the opportunity to collect his daughter.

“Go inside.” His father’s voice was double-edged. “Your son needs you.”

~~~

“Kazan.”

He had been praying over his son’s body for hours as the doctor reset as many bones as he could and sewed the holes where bone had poked through until the doctor sent him away, telling him he was preventing his son from sleeping. Now he was praying at the shrine of his ancestors for his son’s recovery and to ward off evil spirits that would attempt to take him.

“Kazan.”

“You should pray with me, father.” Kazan spoke, not looking up from his position kneeling on the stone floor. 

“I have taught you how to fight. I have taught you to show honor-” Renjiro stopped to inhale. “-apparently, I forgot to teach you how to control yourself in a crisis.”

Kazan did not turn around so his father could not see his cheeks flame with shame. Deep down inside, he knew he was right as he did not have composure in such a desperate situation, but he also knew deep down inside that he did the right thing. “I should have been more… calm, yes. But the family must be punished-”

“Punished?” His father asked, his steps echoing in the stone altar room. “Punished?” He repeated, with a note of incredulousness in his voice that Kazan was surprised at. “I spoke to all the commonery who were there.” His father started “It was an  _ accident _ , Kazan. Akito climbed the tree and a branch beneath him broke and he fell. Nobody pushed him, nobody cursed him or wished him harm.”

“The girl.” Kazan spoke through gritted teeth, gripping the fabric of his pants tightly in clenched fists. “She-”

“Akito raced her to the top of the tree to collect pinecones.”

“Are you saying that Akito is to blame?!” This time, Kazan did turn around to face his father, but then hid his face in shame at the look his father gave him. “I’m sorry. Forgive me for my outburst.”

“I can forgive your outburst. But I cannot forgive your anger, Kazan. Your anger is good on the battlefield- but not every place is a battlefield.” His father stepped closer to him: most people would not dare approach Kazan when he was this angry, but his father held no fear against his own son. “What happened today was an accident, Kazan, and you must accept it.”

“I must accept it?” Kazan asked, voice quiet and on the verge of hysterics. “I must- I must accept that my son may  _ die  _ of an infection, or that at the best he will be crippled for life? That he will never be a warrior? I must accept that?!”

“Yes, you must!” Renjiro raised his own voice to combat Kazan’s booming one, something he rarely did. His presence alone was enough to usually command enough respect that nobody dared challenged him, even in his advanced age. “You cannot change fate, my son. If Akito is to become a samurai yet, then he will be. If his injury proves to be too much, then he may die or he may live to be something as noble as a samurai.”

Kazan approached his father at a dangerously close distance. “And you will just accept it? If my son lives but is crippled for life, and he cannot wield a weapon and fight for himself? What sort of noble life is that?”

“It is the life he may have.” Renjiro spoke evenly, voice lowered back down to a normal level. “And you, as his father, must teach him how to live with whatever path is left available for him.  _ That  _ is your  _ noble duty  _ as a father.”

Turning away again, Kazan let his father’s words stew angrily in his head. It would be a miracle if Akito would be able to keep his leg, let alone be able to use it properly,  _ let alone live-  _ he didn’t want to think about losing his only son because of an  _ accident _ . 

As if his father knew what he was thinking, he spoke first. “I have sent the family away. They will work for another Lord and not return.”

Kazan stared. “They should have been executed!”

“Kazan- yes, I agree the family should be punished since they should have been wary of letting their daughter and Akito climb such a large tree, and they are in being sent away. What you did to them yourself was  _ excessive _ , to say the least- do not interrupt me!” Renjiro put his hand up to stop Kazan from protesting. “You dislocated their daughter's shoulder and gave her many cuts and bruises, destroyed a cartwheel, and the doctor had to tend to the father himself and several other innocent commoners that you hurt in your fit of rage. That is  _ excessive _ . Your rage does not bring you honor when it is excessive.”

His father stepped back up the steps of the altar room, making it clear that he was leaving and making no motion for Kazan to follow him. “Once you feel more  _ in control _ , you may join us for dinner. Your lack of self-restraint shames me.”

His father’s parting words hurt him, but it also stirred confusion within his soul. If he didn’t show such strength, people would think he is weak. And he cannot show that he is weak! The family must be punished, and his father declared that they were, but to Kazan the punishment still wasn’t enough. He would sacrifice them, all of their extended families, everyone if it would cure his son! He would do anything for his Akito- he would walk here barefooted for a hundred bitter winters every single day and pray if it would cure him.

Anything for his Akito. Kazan stepped out of the altar room and inhaled the crisp, cool air deeply into his lungs. Anything, even if it meant swallowing his pride and honor for his son. Anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kazan is a black hawk Apache helicopter with cannons and machine guns Dad. Tell me im wrong
> 
> also i only briefly reseached japanese samurai culture so forgive me for my uneducated sins


	7. A & J.J.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna and Jeff commit, like nine counts of vehicular manslaughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late! I got distracted writing other stuff yesterday so to make up for it its a 2 for 1!
> 
> sorry gryff i have failed you

Anna vaguely remembers cars. She remembers her папа letting her ride in one when he would go to the city to sell his pelts and her мама would fuss about letting her ride in one, saying it was too dangerous and too new for such a little girl. Her папа even let her work the pedals and wheel one time- it made her feel like such a grown-up!

So when she sees a car in her forest, different from those she’s seen in the home of the Bell Man, she has a  _ general  _ idea of how to work it. The hardest part, initially, was to get the door open. The door handle was a little tricky, but she remedied that by yanking it open hard enough that the door gave way completely. It actually made her feel a little bit better since the car her папа drove had no doors, so the car instantly felt more familiar to her.

Sliding in the front seat and throwing her axe in the passenger side  _ just in case _ , Anna pressed the pedals with the expectation that the car would simply take off. When it didn’t, it left Anna puzzled and searching through her memories to figure out what her папа did to make the car go. All that she thought of at first was pressing the pedals and the loud roar of the engine, but the engine didn’t roar all the time, so the car must turn off them, yes? Searching the car, Anna found a set of keys put inside of a lock next to the large steering wheel and had a sudden burst of genius. Keys unlock things, yes? So it must unlock the engine of the car!... that didn’t make much sense, but Anna went with it and twisted the key until the car jumped to life under her touch.

Pressing the pedals, Anna was once again disappointed when the car didn’t move despite the engine revving loudly as she pressed. Thinking again, Anna tried to remember everything her father did while driving when she was a little girl. He would hold the wheel, press the pedals and… and he did something with a stick in the middle of the car! Looking around the seats, the Huntress saw a large, thick stick inbetween the front seats with letters beside it that she knew because her mother and father had taught her letters and numbers and how to write her name! 

But she didn’t know what they meant in relation to the car.  _ Ah, well, time to guess then, yes? _ She moved the lever down a letter, and she hit the pedal, sending the car backwards. She didn’t want to go backwards, but it was a start! She changed it to the next letter, and the engine revved loudly and the tires threw up dirt everywhere, but the car didn’t move. Frowning, Anna moved the lever down to the next letter and pressed down on the pedal- and the car took off! Yelling in excitement and surprise, Anna frantically weaved the car inbetween the trees as it rapidly accelerated until she remembered that there was another pedal to stop the car and she slammed on it with both feet.

Her mask banged painfully against the steering wheel as the car came to a stop and her body lurched forward, Anna groaning in dizziness as she remembered her father always telling her to stay seated when the car was in motion. If she had so much stuck a toe out of the car her мама would have a cow. Anna suddenly had a vision of all of them, sitting in a car together now, her father laughing and smiling as he always was and telling her to drive faster while her mother would be gripping the seats for dear life while she drove like a maniac.

Ah, how she missed her family- but they were long gone, and never coming back.  _ And there was no father or mother telling her that she  _ **_couldn’t_ ** _ drive _ , so Anna stepped on the pedals again. After removing her mask and placing it in the seat next to hers because the eye holes were blocking her view of the trees and her veil kept blowing in her face from the wind whipping inside the car. She needed to see how to drive, of course!

She drove for a while, smiling broadly as she dodged in and out of trees and narrowly avoided crashing into random structures. The car jumped over large tree roots, making Anna bump her head on the roof with each hurdle and her mask rolled all over the passenger seat. She drove for a while, simply enjoying the fast speeds and the feeling of wind taking her breath away until a small light was spotted out in the distance to her left, rapidly approaching and Anna couldn’t resist turning the car around to head towards it. The tires squealing like a pig, Anna hissed under her breath as the car just ever so lightly bumped into a tree as her car spun around due to her hard turn of the wheel.  _ Ah, I can fix at home. _

In a few moments, the light became close enough that Anna could see it was a campfire, but not close enough to see if it was the prey’s fire or her fellow hunters' fire. In fact, she was so caught up in trying to think about what to do for each scenario that she forgot to actually  _ stop  _ the car until she had to slam on the breaks, running over several logs, rocks, small trees and  _ someone. _

Judging by the scream, it was that  _ very  _ loud man that came with her when she first awoke in this place. Anna is almost certain that his name is David, although since she couldn’t see him she couldn’t be sure. The car finally came to a halt about fifteen meters from the fire, one of the tires on a small log causing the car to feel unbalanced. But that was the least of Anna’s worries at the moment: one was the small puddle of blood on the ground underneath her side of the door that she accidently stepped in when she turned to look out, and two the car slowly moved forward when she took her foot off the pedal. In a panic, she hit the gas and the car lurched a few meters and something under the car crunched loudly. Anna assumed it was the person she ran over but didn’t have time to check and look around.

The second thing that was a worry to her was someone else at the campfire, another large man with a heavy beard that reminded her of her папа for a moment. Ah, he was so familiar, though! What was his name? James? Joseph? No… Jeff! That was it! It was hard to remember because there was no real sound for J in Russian. It always came out sounding like a Y.

“Yeff!” She called out, one foot firmly on the brake and one of her hands gripping the wheel tightly  _ just in case _ . She didn’t want the car getting away from her. 

“Huntress!?!” He called out. Anna could see him shaking in shock and fear from where she was in her car. “You- you ran over David! David, are you okay?”

David didn’t answer, but Anna did with a nod. “Good.” She did not like that loud man at all! He always tried to punch her and that was a mean thing to do. Jeff never punched her, not even when he was on her shoulder. Just gentle kicks and pushing. That was okay to her. She was happy she ran David over- it was satisfying! Almost as satisfying as killing him by her own hand!

Jeff’s eyes popped out of his head under his thick hair. “Good? He’s not good, he’s dead!”

Anna nodded again and reiterated, hoping he could understand her. “Good!” In fact… suddenly remembering she could go in reverse, she fiddled with the level until it jumped in reverse and she could see the mangled and bloody body of David, and ran him over again! Ah, that felt good!

She heard Jeff groan over the sound of the engine, and Anna just stared at him for a minute. Jeff was very nice to her… he didn’t even try to stop her from running over David again! She wondered… “Get in car.” She declared, starting Jeff from where he had been looking away with his face in his hands. Maybe he was feeling sick?  _ Riding in a car should help _ , Anna thinks.

“What?” Jeff pales even more. “Get in the car? You want me to get in the car with you?”

“Да” She knew the word “yes”, but да just came naturally to her. “Yes” was a funny word to say. “Get in car.”

Jeff… didn’t think he had a choice in the matter, so he wisely decided to get in the car, trying not to look at David’s body under the car as he reached for the handle behind the drivers’ door, only to find it locked. Anna tilted her head when Jeff pulled on the handle and couldn’t get the door to open. Maybe he was not pulling hard enough? She reached her hand back to yank it open when Jeff stopped her with a gentle tap on her outstretched hand.

“It’s okay.” He said in a soft voice that pleased Anna. “I can open it. Can you lean forward?”  _ Lean forward?  _ Anna didn’t know what that would do, but she did it anyway to entertain the man and watched him stick his hand behind her seat, reached around for a small switch on the door and flicked it, and then he pulled the door open. Ah, that was easy! But how would you open it from the outside if you locked all the doors…?

As soon as Jeff closed his door, Anna both literally and figuratively switched gears, and soon took off at a high rate of speed again, screaming in excitement as Jeff screamed in fear. She drove past more buildings, more places that she recognized as other hunters’ territory as they whizzed by her… and ran over something else while she was driving through the big Trapper’s territory.

Anna hadn’t planned on stopping, but Jeff kept screaming at her to stop, to see what they had hit, and Anna reluctantly came to a sudden halt in the car and threw it reverse until they ran over something again that groaned loudly. Once it was in front of the car, Anna leaned out of the driver’s side of the car, making sure to keep her foot on the break while Jeff, clearly more concerned than she was, ran over to inspect who it was.

At first he had a look of panic and concern on his face, but she watched as it changed to a look more akin to relief. “It was Ghostface!” He called back, and Anna had to wrack her brain to think of who this Ghostface was; Ghostface, Ghostface…  _ ah,  _ that little man who kept trying to scare her and poking her with his knife! And he kept taking pictures, too, never seeming to run out of those tiny cameras no matter how many times she crushed them underfoot.

If she had thought it a good thing running over David, then it was a really good thing to run over that Ghostface! “Good!” She called out, slapping the steering wheel in excitement and pride. “Get in car!” She called out, but Jeff was already running back to dive into the backseat. “He’s still moving!” He called out, and sure enough, she saw that Ghostface rolling on the ground back and forth, clutching himself in pain.

Anna revved the engine.

Jeff’s eyes went wide in the backseat. “Wait, Huntress, you don’t need-!” Oh, but she needed to! She ran him over again, making sure the tires dug deep into that Ghostface so far that he really became a ghost. Haha, that was clever! Jeff screamed again when Anna ran the killer over for the third time, but after a moment this time he cut himself off with a sigh of resignation and poked Anna in the shoulder.

“Да?” What does the hairy man want?

“Can I sit up front?” Sit up front-? He wanted to sit up next to her! Anna nodded vigorously, but then pursed her lips and leaned over to grab her mask that had rolled to the floor along with her axe. “Да, but you must hold things.”

Jeff figured that if the Huntress was bound and determined to run people over, he at least wanted to see who it was in the front so he could apologize to them later. Right now, David was squarely at the top of his list. Agreeing to the Huntresses’ demands, Jeff played a dangerous game of bouncing around in the car while he climbed into the front from the back while the car was doing no less than 80 miles per hour, serving violently from left to right every few seconds as if they were on a racetrack. Jeff has a thought that she would be a great racer if she actually knew how to drive.

Once he was secured in the front seat and holding the Huntresses’ mask and axe, Jeff reached to put his seatbelt on only to discover that there were none. Looking around, Jeff saw that there was just an empty space where all the seatbelts used to be. Figures that the Entity wouldn’t be much into safety.

The landscape changed suddenly, the ground covered in increasing amounts of whiteness until snow covered everything, and the huge lodge of Mount Ormond came into view. Jeff had assumed that the Huntress was going to drive right by it, until she made a sudden detour towards it.

Driving right towards the front doors of the lodge. Jeff turned to face her, and saw a wild, feral smirk on her face. “проблемные дети” She uttered as the car exceeded 120 miles per hour, and swerved only to avoid running into a rock. Jeff, now realizing the danger of being in the front seat, turned to Anna with a pleading tone in his voice.

“Can you… slow down just a little bit?”

“Нет” Well, he tried. As the front of the lodge rapidly approached, Jef prayed to any deity that was still good out there that he didn’t go flying out the windshield on impact. 

And, whaddaya know, something answered his prayers. 

The impact threw him up onto the dashboard, face mashing against the glass, but neither the glass nor the car broke upon impact. The front of the lodge instantly caved in, and the four Legion members that were huddled around the central fireplace were met with a quick vehicular death as Anna kept her foot all the way on the gas pedal until the car ran into the central fireplace and stopped dead in its tracks, unable to go through the solid fixture.

Anna bumped her face against the steering wheel again, but didn’t go flying out of her seat like Jeff did. When he slumped back in his seat with a soft moan of pain, Anna tilted her head to the side. “Yeff, you okay?”

“Oh… yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He was surprised to find that his nose wasn’t broken even though it was throbbing like shit, nor was it bleeding.  _ God, what the hell is this glass made of?  _ “Are they…” He pointed to the one body he could see thrown up against the counter, back bent unnaturally over it. It was Julie.

“I check.” And by checking, Anna put the car in reverse and backed up, revealing that the car hadn’t sustained much damage other than losing the front fender and a headlight which Anna wasn’t using anyways, and the hood was crinkled up some. The bodies of Frank, Joey and Susie were all flattened and in their own respective puddles of blood and bones, however… Anna threw the car in drive and ran over Frank again, and then backed up over him and out of the lodge.

Jeff had known the Legion back before he came here, had done the large mural on the wall for them and drank convenience store beers with them. They had been pretty cool then, but now… he might’ve felt bad for them in the beginning, but seeing how twisted and depraved they got about chasing and killing people, he didn’t feel sorry for them anymore. Especially Frank. How into it the others were was up for debate, but he could just tell from the way Frank did things and looked at people as he hurt them that he  _ loved  _ doing all of this, even if he was just a much a prisoner here as he was.

“FUCK YOU FRANK!” Jeff yelled, rolling down his window and yelling at the lifeless corpse on the ground as Anna maneuvered the car back through the hole she had made. Even though it was fucked up and morbid, running over the Legion, Frank in particular, was a great stress relief!

“Да, FUCK YOU!” There were very few English words that Anna enjoyed saying just as much as Russian, but the word ‘fuck’ was one of them. Laughing madly, Anna finally backed the car fully outside in the snow and switched gears again, driving back into the woods at full speed.

“WOOHOO, HELL YEAH!” Jeff’s not sure if he’s just so scared that he’s enjoying this, or if he’s really  _ really  _ enjoying this. Either way, he pulled his hair out of his tie and stuck his head out the window, tongue out and mouth open. It was fun to let loose for a few minutes until he had enough of not being able to breath and scraping his face on leaves and branches that he had to bring his head back in and take a few deep breaths.

“Hey Huntress?’ He asked, hesitantly getting an idea.

“Да?”

“Can we run over Freddy?” The Badham Preschool was quickly approaching on her right, and Anna swerved towards it. “Good идея, Yeff!”

~~~

Eventually, the car started to run out of gas, which surprised Jeff because he thought that the Entity would just… bullshit things so the car didn’t need gas, but apparently it did. Anna almost wrecked the car when the gas light started chiming at her, but Jeff was able to can her down and tell her that the car just needed some gas. It took Jeff a moment to explain what the word gas meant in Russian because Anna didn’t understand the word in English. “Да, газ!” And she knew where to get it too, and she rolled the car in on fumes to the Autohaven Gas Station, went inside the station and shook the Bell Man until he understood that Anna wanted gas for her car.

Jeff couldn’t help but chuckle at how  _ shaken  _ the Wraith looked when they had pulled up in a car with its front hood and bumper gone, no front door and smoking engine. He took the moment of rest to tally up just how many people they had run over in their joyride together. David had been first, then Ghostface, then the Legion, so that’s four plus two equals six; they ran over Freddy and then stopped by Lery’s and ran over the Doctor- but Jeff’s not sure that he’s dead, but he’ll still count that as eight, and then they ran over Ghostface again on the way back to get gas who had evidently just came back to life, so… that's nine, right? 

“Anna?” The Wraith had been kind _ (or scared) _ enough to offer them both a few snack cakes while they waited for him to fill up the gas and to inspect the loud rattling noise that he offered to look at  _ (Jeff thinks that he’s trying to save more people by keeping them here longer).  _ “We- you ran over nine people today. Ghostface twice.”

“Да!” Anna nodded happily while chewing on a Twinkie. “Today is good day.”

“Good, yes…” Honestly, other than David, he had no qualms about everyone else they had run over. Any day they ran murderous psychopaths down with a car was a good day to him. “Do you hate them as much as I do, Anna?” He still can’t believe that she had given him permission to call her Anna, either. Today must be a very good day for him.

“Ah…” Anna started, trying to find good English words to use. “...not like you hate them. Like, ah… they don’t hang me on hook, Да?”

Jeff nodded, and added. “I know, but do they bother you? Like, come to your house and mess with you?”

“Да, bother! That is word: bother. That Ghostface likes to poke me and try to scare me and take pictures. Those хулиганы always make fun of me, say that I am stupid-” Anna stopped. Everytime they call her stupid, especially their leader, but she is not stupid! She may not be able to read or write or count good, but she is smart! Smarter than a lot of people she knew as a child. She shakes her head, and opens her bag of chips a little bit too hard as a few land on the ground. “-I am not stupid!” She declares, shoving a large handful into her mouth. “They are stupid ones. They are dead.”

“Yeah, The Legion are kinda shitheads right?” Anna makes a humming noise in response, and Jeff sips his soda. It’s horribly bland, but it’s the first thing he’s had to drink in months so he can’t complain and drinks it all the same. “I painted the mural on the wall for them-” At Anna’s look of confusion, Jeff tried to specify. “You know the, uh, big painting on the outside and on the inside? I know there's a lot, but the biggest one? They’re the same?” 

Anna thought about it, tried to visualize the building in her mind, and tried to remember if there was a painting both inside and outside that was the same… she thinks she has it. “It white with letters?” She guesses, and taps her bare feet against the grass in happiness when Jeff nods in approval. “Yeah, I did that.”

“You draw?” She loved to draw, although it wasn’t something she could do often. She would love to see him draw!

“I used to before I came here. And paint.”

“You draw and paint for me some time.” Jeff nodded because it was a demand, not a request.

“I, uh, wouldn’t have painted for them if I had known they were like that. Killers, I mean.” He really wouldn't have. They had seemed so chill and cool at the time, even hung out and drank beers- it was startling to think that they could’ve killed him if they didn’t like his art so much.

Anna pats him on the shoulder- more like slaps him, but it’s a gesture meant for comfort. “A mistake. We all make mistake.”

The Canadian swallows the rest of his bland soda down with a frown. “It was a pretty big one.” Jeff looks at Anna, picking crumbs off of her woolen shirt and shoving them in her mouth, noticing that her lip was permanently tucked upwards. It almost looked like a cleft lip, but if the woman had grown up in the woods all her life, there’s almost no way that she could’ve had it corrected.

But it also makes him think that it does make her look… different. And her actions and language barrier would make her seem dumb, especially to the Legion. “You aren’t dumb, Anna.” Jeff finds himself having sympathy for Anna, because she really isn’t dumb. If she was dumb, she wouldn’t be alive in the first place. “Yeah, you didn’t go to school and you don’t know all things adults do, but you’re not dumb! I bet the Legion couldn’t survive in Russia!” He  _ knows  _ he couldn’t.

“Да!” Anna throws her chip bag to the ground violently, and Jeff dares not tell her that littering is illegal. “They are stupid ones. They know nothing about killing prey. They have… small knives. You cannot survive with small knife in Russia. If you do not kill bear, bear kills you. Small man with small knife cannot beat me-”

Anna kept going on, and Jeff listened while opening up another pack of snack cakes. He assumes it was oatmeal raisin pie, but it tasted like mud and butter. But he ate it anyway. As long as they were eating, Anna wasn’t driving.


	8. J.R.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane starts over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short kinda angsty/happy stuff. I love Jane but I had no ideas aihdiashidhias
> 
> u know who this Oscar goes to

It was hard to live as Jane Romero in a world where Jane Romero was dead. Long dead and casket buried in the ground- without a body, she presumed. She hasn’t even decided if she wants to go back to her father and grandfather and tell them she’s alive. It would be one hell of an explanation, one they probably wouldn’t believe and blame her for disappearing. Jane didn’t need that. She already knew it was her fault that she had been taken by the Entity- she knew better than to pop pills and drive, but she had a horrible migraine and wouldn’t stop to sleep at a hotel or rest stop for the night. 

It was her fault. It really was. And she had to shoulder her own consequences and carry on. It has brought her to the brink of sadness, depression, insanity, paranoia- but she had always managed to bring herself back.

She used to love to go out, to just see different people and how they behaved out in public. Call her weird, but it was fascinating to her to see how people could act out in public and then do a full 360 in their private life. But now she can’t. So many people stop her and tell her she looks just like Jane Romero- she’s her height, her size, looks just like her, sounds like her- it breaks her heart inside when she has to shake her head and tell them that she gets that all the time.

The less she goes out the less she gets to avoid  _ that _ , but the less she goes out the more she’s inside, and eventually the shadows on her walls start to look like the Trapper, the Doctor, the Huntress- eventually she  _ has  _ to go outside. 

The news is too much to even look at anymore. Every murder, assualt, attack on the headlines sends phantom pains of hooks through her shoulder and traps digging into her ankles. It’s senseless violence that she just wants to end because she doesn’t know for certain, but the Entity seemed to love violence, craved it, lived off of it, lived off of their suffering and death, and she can't help but think every act of violence only feeds it. It drives her nuts more than any of her paranoid thoughts or feelings could. Why do people have to be so cruel and mean that they have to kill or beat each other to get their point across.

Jane thinks she’s become a nihilist or something. No, maybe that’s not the right word, but she has yet to find a word other than perhaps pacifist. There’s no need for violence unless in self-defense. Why can’t everybody, why can’t the world see that? Why fight over land, over religion, over culture, over ethnicities when we’re all just humans on a large habitable rock in space? Sometimes, Jane just wants to shake all the world leaders and tell them to stop with all the wars and suffering.

This is what Albert Einstein felt like, Jane thinks, to be one of the smartest humans in a world full of dumbasses. 

She paints to distract all of these thoughts. She always thinks of Jeff, or that one time Trapper let her paint him in a sitting pose, as she paints. She’s not Bob Ross or a Picasso, but her paintings make her a little bit of money to live off of and then some. People find her pleasant to work with and they hire her to paint walls or murals or other things. Since she can’t be a celebrity and help people anymore, she figures she might as well paint happy things and make people happy through art.

It was a long time before she settled on a name to call herself, since she can’t just go by Jane Romero anymore. She had thought about just using her grandma’s name, but no, that would’ve been too obvious. She had just been browsing the internet when she just happened so see two names on the same webpage. Not together, but her brain connected it unconsciously.

Summer Ortega. It was a name she had grown to love. She had to, because she couldn’t be Jane Romero anymore.

One day she’s painting out in the street of a little town she’s grown to call home when someone stops for a while, across the street at an outdoor coffee shop, to watch her paint a friendly looking dog and cat on a brick wall of a vet building. They’re not weird or creepy or staring at her sexually or at her ass, just… admiring. Looking at her like they find her painting calming.

It’s a little bit unnerving when they simply stare and not say a word, but Jane isn’t put off. When it’s time for her break, she walks across the street and decides to sit next to the person who seems shocked that she’s come over to talk to them.

“Hello.” She says, giving them a smile that makes them look ready to bolt. It’s a he, now that she’s up close; black hair, pale skin, light freckles, small nose, lips and of sturdy built. Jane can’t help but think that the man kinda resembles Dwight, but if he was taller and more confident. “You like my painting?”

“Uh, yeah.” The man fiddles with his small coffee cup inbetween his pale fingers and avoids Jane gaze for a moment before looking at her to speak. She figures he’s got some social anxiety disorder or remnants of it _ (she may not be a TV star anymore, but old skills never fade).  _ “I always thought painting was very relaxing. I’m not very good at it, but… I get plenty of practice coloring with my little cousins.” He chuckles afterward, and Jane finds it pleasant.

“My name is… Summer.”  _ She almost said Jane, damnit!  _ “What’s yours?” She hadn’t even attempted to make a single friend since she’s escaped, but this man was, dare she say, looking friend-worthy.

The man smiled, and Jane saw brightness in his brown eyes that made her beam. His breath smelt of apple pie and mild coffee creamer.


	9. E.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where this went but I will hug Evan MacMillan and in this essay I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tommorrow is claudette morel and i froth

Blood pooled at his feet from his new  _ decoration.  _ He doesn’t understand how someone could  _ enjoy  _ such a cruel mistress as the Entity, but clearly some are, made evident by his more enthusiastic fellow hunters. 

Evan wants to rip out the new spike in his arm, but he knows from past experience that it would make the pain far worse- and the Entity would just make it grow just as soon as he would think that the worst of it was over. It was useless to try and subvert the will of the spider creature that kept him locked here.

_ Do better next time.  _ It would tell him as one of its claws drug over his body, not piercing him this time like it normally would’ve done, but as a very clear warning. It was rare that he actually was let off with a warning when he did poorly, usually only happened when the Entity changed something or added someone or something new and gave him the  _ benefit of the doubt.  _ If a creature such as it could even understand what that meant-

_ Adapt and improvise.  _ But Evan wasn’t stupid; he knew what  _ that  _ meant. Get better or get punished.

Now, he would be lying if he said he  _ didn’t  _ enjoy the screams of agony as some certain survivors were caught and hung… but there were some that he didn’t enjoy. There were some he truly believed didn’t belong in here, to suffer as cruelty and infinitely as this, but he knew he would face horrible suffering himself if he dared speak that outloud or showed continual favoritism. More than he already suffers, at least.

_ You must stop them from turning on the light!  _ He wants to tell the spider  _ why don’t you stop them from turning on the bloody  _ **_light_ ** _ yourself!?  _ sometimes, but like his father taught him with fists and whips, you do  _ not  _ talk back to your superiors lest you incur their wrath. So he hits, flays, hangs and traps survivors as his new mistresses orders as she’s been ordering for the past...years, decades, centuries, however long he’s been here.

But the Entity is not always cruel and unforgiving. Sometimes, it lets him be his old self for a while. Turns him back into what he used to be: a young man in the prime of his life  _ (or maybe it’s the Entity giving him delusions that he is himself again) _ , but instead of his father’s overwhelming control over every aspect of his life, it’s the Entity overwhelming control over  _ everything.  _ The times that he’s allowed to look human again, he finds himself staring into the mirror for hours focusing on his reflection, both relishing the times where he’s not in pain and finding himself revolting.

He would’ve gladly defied his father if it meant he would’ve never ended up here. He knows that he enjoyed the suffering of others to an extent, but unlike his father, Evan had limits on his sadistic nature. He would’ve never hurt anybody just for the hell of it, but he knows his father had a basement where people would go in and never come out. People that had no connections to the MacMillan Mines. But Evan turned a blind eye because he both loved and feared his father at the same time, and those two emotions conflicted him into inaction.

There’s a small, intact mirror in his personal section of the Estate that the Entity lets him have all to himself, and he runs his hands over the mirror where several cracks run deep. It’s because he’s punched it so many times, but it never seems to break, or the Entity repairs it so quickly that it's never given a chance to break. Evan finds that he wants it to break so that he can’t stare at himself for hours, lamenting over the monster he's become.

As much as he enjoys watching certain people’s ankles in bear traps, he doesn’t want to be here. He wants to move on, die, go to the Devil’s hell, be rebirthed- whatever happens after you finally kick the bucket. The pain he is constantly in isn’t worth the fleeting pleasure he gets. He can’t kill himself- tried to over and over when he first got here, but the Entity just tutted at him like a parent would at a misbehaving child and forced him into a trial.

He’s all leather-skinned and bald. He used to be decent looking as a human: tall, stocky build, comely enough that unknowing ladies would avert their eyes if he looked in their direction, but that’s gone now in favor of being the creature the Entity molded him into.  _ Well,  _ he pathetically thinks,  _ at least I’m not cut up into pieces like that poor girl, or a husk like the Hag, or an absolute madman like the Doctor- _

When he thinks of it like that, he’s actually far better off than many of his fellow killers here. It makes him feel small and petty to lament so much about his own situation when there are so many who have it far worse. Call him a hypocrite, but as much as he complains, he  _ knows  _ he has it good here, at least his father cannot beat him here or breath down his neck-

He needs to stop drinking whatever Phillip is giving him, he doesn’t even know what he’s thinking anymore. There is nothing good about this place except the fact that he could  _ technically  _ torture whoever he wanted and not be arrested by the police. Torture is not his forte, but if Nea Karlsson shoves one more flashlight into his eyes he’s going to catch her out of a trial one day and replace her eyeballs with bulbs. Maybe that’ll ease his melancholy thoughts he’s had of late...


	10. C.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claudette is trying her Best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claudette is me. I literally do 99% of what she does. I have the memory of Dory. Except for tea. And Be Canadian.

Claudette put her empty tea cup down on the counter and reached for a sticky note on her cabinet door.  _ Brush your teeth!  _ Claudette smiled; she did that. She reached for another one on the next door.  _ Put up the toaster!  _ She had already done that, as well as putting her tea cup in soak. Running some water in the sink, Claudette washed all the tea grains down the drain before turning back around to be met with a whiteboard full of blue reminders.

_ Do the dishes -  _ to be done later when she comes home.

_ Laundry -  _ she needs to put her clothes in the washer before she leaves.

_ Grab water -  _ Claudette opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle out, wiping the condensing water on it on the edge of her shirt as she continued reading.

_ Clean glasses -  _ she’ll do that next.

_ Text Mom and Dad -  _ pulling out her phone, Claudette texted a quick good morning to both of her parents before sliding her phone in the pockets of her pants and grabbing the dry erase marker off the counter. Using the spongy end of it, Claudette erased grabbing water and texting her parents until the whiteboard had turned a thin veil of blue before putting the marker back down and walking into the bathroom.

Turning the light on, Claudette made sure to give herself a good lookover just to make sure she hadn’t forgotten a pencil behind her ear or had forgotten to brush her hair. When she deemed herself caught up, she slipped her glasses off her face and turned the water on hot, quickly washing the grease and fingerprint stains off the lens before her fingers burned and wiped them off on her bathroom towel.

Pushing them back into place, Claudette made sure to turn off the bathroom light to save electricity and walked back into the kitchen to erase  _ washing her glasses  _ off the board. After it was gone, she saw the last thing she needed to do before she headed out was to put the laundry on which she  _ dreaded-  _ she hated sorting laundry because she always missed one red sock and it tinted all of her clothes pink-

A notification popped up on her phone, telling her that one of her faved streamers, ShiningLion, was streaming Animal Crossing on Twitch and  _ oh no-  _ before she knew it, Claudette had promised herself that she would only watch a few minutes of the stream and then go do laundry and then she would go out to that nice little coffee shop that she’s been wanting to go to for a while now.

But… the game was so cute! She didn’t dare by it herself while she had her final exams in a few weeks because she knew she would play games instead of studying, but that didn’t stop her from watching other people play it. Yes, it was a cheap work around, but the game was  _ so cute…  _ and ShiningLion was cute, too, especially now that she was wearing a cute bunny hoodie with ears on it.

As the ShiningLion went further into debt by Tom Nook’s shady deals and she swore revenge, it was over half an hour before Claudette realized that she had just indeed spent half an hour watching a stream she said she would only watch for a few minutes! Scowling to herself, Claudette quickly turned off the screen to her phone and took a deep calming breath to herself:  _ it’s okay that you took a little bit longer than you wanted. You just need to get up and go do what you need to do.  _ Leaving her phone on the arm of the sofa, Claudette stood up, ready to…

_...ready to what?  _ What did she need to do again-? Forgetting her task, Claudette immediately went to her whiteboard and looked over her remaining items. Dishes and laundry. Laundry! That was it- she had been complaining about red socks. Happy that she had filled in her memory blanks, Claudette briskly walked into her little laundry area and took the clothes out of the hamper, taking careful steps to make sure she had shaken all the socks out of her pants and had separated all the colors from one another.

Putting all the light colors in, Claudette put the rest of the clothes back into the hamper for now and turned on the washing machine, nearly forgetting to put in laundry detergent as she was in such a hurry to go back to her whiteboard.

_ Laundry put in.  _ Erasing, Claudette started running a mental checklist of things she would need before she left the apartment. Her wallet, phone, jacket, keys, money- starting at the beginning, Claudette got her wallet in her hand and put it by the table by the door that was specifically reserved for putting things there right before she went out. Making sure she had some money in there, she next grabbed her jacket off the back of her sofa and slipped it on, zipping it up all the way before deciding that it wasn’t  _ that  _ cold out and unzipped it halfway.

Now her phone… oh where did she put it? It’s not on the kitchen counters, nor on her de-  _ duh _ , she put it on the sofa! Claudette slipped her phone into her jacket pocket and turned back to her wallet. Wallet, money, phone, jacket was that all she needed? She thought so.

Grabbing her wallet and heading for the front door, Claudette slid the chain off the door before she suddenly remembered that she needed her keys! They were on her desk in the living room, as usual, and pocketing them was a comforting and reassuring weight to her that she wouldn’t run the risk of locking herself out.

“Jacket, wallet, money, phone, keys…” Claudette muttered to herself, counting in her hand and on her fingers all of the items on her checklist, and she’s pretty sure she got everything! Smiling broadly that she hadn’t forgotten anything, Claudette opened the door to bright sunlight beaming through her screen door, and Claudette double and triple checked that she had everything before she shut the door behind her, making sure it was locked before closing the screen door and stepping down the few steps onto her sidewalk.

She pulls out her phone and checks the time. 10:27. She sets an alarm for noon so she doesn’t spend all day outside and not studying or eating properly. Turning her phone back off and putting it back in her pocket, Claudette walks down to the edge of the sidewalk where concrete turns to pavement, and when she gets to a certain crack in the sidewalk, she makes sure to look up and across the street thrice before crossing.

It’s amazing how she could forget basic things if she wasn’t so careful.


	11. C.Q.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb realizes that he's yee'd the wrong haw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this stinky cowboy. He. The slinger of big dicks-

Something wasn’t adding up.

The part about shooting Henry Bayshore added up just perfectly. It was the part about shooting him over and over and over and over again that wasn’t adding up. Oh, he would be just as happy as a lark to keep shooting Henry Bayshore for the rest of eternity, God willing- but you don’t just keep shooting a man with a harpoon gun and he just keeps hopping along like there ain’t a damn thing wrong with him.

And it wasn’t just Henry Bayshore, either. Old rivals, bullies, those who had crossed his path and left him in the dust, they kept coming no matter how much Caleb shot and bludgeoned them, eventually, they would come back only to run away again. But when they weren’t running, they kept trying to fix these big machines to escape through a door- Caleb sat down on one of the musty beds to take some pressure off his bad leg and swung it up, not caring if his boot dirtied the sheet underneath it. Blood spatter usually soiled it, anyways.

It was one of the few times he was allowed to rest and to think. Thinking too hard on anything made his leg throb worse, but this time he was  _ bound  _ and  _ determined  _ to find the answer to the question of  _ why is it that he can keep shooting everyone and they can come back just fine later? _ People aren’t immortal; he knows that first hand that people, no matter who, all bleed the same red blood and will die in a puddle of it if the injury is deadly enough. And he doesn’t know why, but he feels a compulsive need to hang everybody on those hooks… it just doesn’t make sense.

Caleb would’ve sat up straight in bed if his leg had allowed him, but he propped himself up on his elbows and looked around.  _ Why was he hanging everybody up on hooks?!  _ Not that it wouldn’t be an… interesting way of torturing people, but when did he get the idea to do that? And why were they everywhere? There was never anything like that in Glenvale before, and this leaves Caleb confuddled. And why did he feel so  _ compelled  _ to do so? What if he didn’t next time? 

A scattering noise down below interrupts his thoughts.  _ Well,  _ Caleb thought grimly, grabbing the Redeemer from where he had leaned it up against the wall as he exited the room,  _ I can try it out now.  _

There was someone in one of those rusted lockers, turns out- a bully from his childhood who taunted him for being Irish, and Caleb chuckled.  _ Gotcha!  _ He was so happy and thrilled to have caught the young man that he almost forgot that he wasn’t going to hang him, so he puts him back down on the wooden floor of the saloon, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere before walking back outside to look for more blood to spill.

His head itched something fierce as the seconds ticked by. At first he thought it was just a fly under his hat, but after giving his head a good scratch, he realized that it was his  _ skull  _ that was itching, and the buzzing noise wasn’t a fly.

_ Put them on a hook! _

Caleb wasn’t a man to scare easily, if he could be scared at all with what all manners of delivery he had seen in his lifetime. But this situation right here had him concerned, to say the least. He looked around for the source of the words, expecting to see a rustle of movement of an enemy in a bush, waiting to taunt and tease him more- but nothing. The only thing that moved was the tumbleweeds crossing the road like ducks. They always crossed the dirt road in the same place, same direction and speed, never changed.

_ Put them on a HOOK!  _

A popping noise that he had come to associate with one of those machine engine things being turned on sounded behind him, distracting him for a few moments long enough to garner his attention from the words to the machine.  _ If it had just been turned on, that meant people were there _ . 

Making sure his Redeemer was loaded, Caleb stiffly headed off in that direction, and soon enough found a target hiding in a bush. Pulling up his gun in the blink of an eye and shooting, his harpoon found it’s target in the shoulder of whoever it was- a man who had stolen his money after collecting a bounty- and pulled them close enough to slash him with his bayonet. Blood spraying all over him and his weapon, he took a single moment to wipe the blood off of his face and weapon with his thumb, wiping a single line of blood off the engraving of his gun… but  _ why?  _ He had always waited until after a gunfight to clean himself and his weapon off, and the man had gotten away!

It was one of those compulsive actions again. What was happening to him that couldn’t control such a thing? He wasn’t  _ that  _ old-

_ Chase them down!  _

Caleb hadn’t realized that he had been standing in the middle of the road, starting at his gun and the blood now on his thumb. He looked around again, quickly reloading his gun to  _ shoot  _ whoever in the blazin’ hell kept yappin’ to him like this! He forgot about the man he had already shot and the man he left lying on the floor in favor of the new, invisible enemy.

“Who’s there?” He yelled, out, keeping all of his senses open so he could detect where this person was when they talked next so he could-

_ Who’s there?  _ The voice mocked, coming from all around him and, worse of all, ringing in his ears like an explosion. His skull itched again, but Caleb dared not to lift his finger off the trigger to scratch it and he didn’t want to see if his fingers were shaking or not. 

“SHOW YERSELF!” Nearly screaming, Caleb’s anxiety makes his chest tighten, and for the first time in a long, long while, he feels fear running down his leg. Adrenaline pumps through his veins like fire and he clamps down hard on his lopsided jaw.

_ How dare you turn against  _ **_me_ ** _?  _ The voice sounded again, more angry than mocking and Caleb felt the ground vibrate beneath his feet as if an earthquake was occuring. A glowing below his feet his attention, and a look down alerted to the bright cracks in the ground that sometimes happened when he took too long to kill all his rivals, except this time it had only been a few minutes.

_ Me, who lets you kill your rivals over and over again? Me, who lets you live out your rage and vendetta for as long as you desire?  _

Spider legs issued forth from the ground, and Caleb lowered his gun in shock as a fog literally cleared from his mind, and suddenly he could  _ see  _ things. A wagon on it’s side, but missing things that made it real and authentic. The same wooden pallets in patterns- there were so many  _ patterns  _ all around him, like this was all a board game set up for him to play on.

The legs clawed around his ankles, threatened to sweep him off his feet and drag him down to the pits of hell. It was at this moment Caleb Quinn realized that, somewhere inbetween killing Henry Bayshore and ending up here, he fucked up. He’s not in Glenvale. He looked around. The dead bodies littering the street were… generic. They had no defining facial features, no identification, nothing. They were like dolls.

A claw scraped under his throat, scraping his skin and making him look up at the large mass of limbs in front of him. 

A laughter echoed throughout the desert landscape.  _ You’re awake.  _ Caleb felt awake, like he had been drugged and blindfolded this whole time and had just managed to shake off a hangover.  _ You’re lucky. Not many are as perceptive as you are.  _ The claws wrapped around his torso then, preventing him from leaving and bringing him closer to the mass in front of him.

Caleb hadn’t thought about religion in a long time, but this seems like Hell.  _ But, he didn’t belong in hell, did he? _ Sure he may have tortured a guy or two at the end there, but he brought down a lot of criminals and cleaned up towns with his Hellshire Gang. He was more decent than any man in a suit that he met! 

_ You may consider this your Hell.  _ Caleb’s eyes bulged. This thing can read minds?!  _ But you  _ **_will_ ** _ do as I command you to.  _ The man scowled, thrashing in his bonds as he was poked all over.

“What makes ya think you can tell me what to do-!” His tough act waa squeezed from him like fresh juice as the claws around him tightened to the point where his bones and joint popped and snapped, threatening to break with any more pressure.

**_You do not have a choice._ ** Caleb was suddenly turned around and could see a crying figure in the distance- no, it was a woman, colored skin, a dust-colored jacket and short hair crying and clutching her shoulder. Her legs couldn’t hold her, so she slumped against a stack of boxes behind her and tried to press a loose scarf around her neck on the wound, but the scarf quickly turned dark red, the unmistakable smell of copper filled the air.

That was one of his rivals, but now it was a woman. A woman he had never seen before and who had never done him wrong. Caleb felt like a monster as one of the claws caressed his face with false care. “I don’t hurt no innocent people.” Caleb whispered, even though he felt his control of the situation slipping away with each claw that slithered about him and shuddered. “I’d rather die-”

**_Death is not an escape._ ** The voice cooed in his ear and Caleb bit back the urge to vomit. **_If you refuse, I will torture you beyond belief until you comply. You have no choice, Caleb Quinn._ **

The claws retracted, and left Caleb standing in the middle of the road, gun in his hand and sick to his stomach, eyes locked on the sobbing and bloody woman his gun had pierced. Caleb hadn’t felt this out of control since he was in prison- he knew in prison that one day he’d get out, but here… he had a gut feeling that he was going to be here for eternity.

Against all moralities he had left in him after all these years, Caleb raised his gun and aimed down sights at the woman as the voice cooed in his ear again.

  
_ My Deathslinger… bring me her blood!  _ Caleb closed his eyes and squeezed his finger, but the woman’s scream of pain scarred his mind worse than looking.


	12. Joey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joey got all his feelings hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lore-wise, I hate the Legion. Fuck the Legion. I will beat Frank with a stick.
> 
> Game-wise, I hate the Legion. Julie looks like Nea with that new cosmetic. Nea is now a member of the legion sorry I don't make the rules.

Joey knew he disappointed his mother daily. Everytime he came home with a bad grade, everytime he came home beat up or with cuts and bruises, everytime a truant officer drugged him back to their shitty little house on their shitty little street. Joey could see the pain in his mother’s eyes that her eldest and only son was fucking up this bad daily.

It wasn’t easy being one of the very few black people within a 50-mile radius, either. The only thing he was  _ decent  _ at was biology- that’s how him and Frank met and bonded- but he  _ hated  _ school too much to really try at it. If it wasn’t for Frank, Julie and Susie, he’s sure he would’ve dropped out of school by now, no matter how much his mother would beg him _ (but he hated disappointing her so much, but that’s all he could do, it seemed).  _

_ “You have to set a role model for your sisters!”  _ His mother tells him whenever he does something really disappointing.  _ “Ever since your father left-”  _ Left, ha! His mother may think he wasn’t old enough to understand, but he knew what it meant when his father stopped coming home and started hanging around a “buddy’s’” house for nights, weekends, days- but Joey will always respect his mother for not putting up with his shit when she found out. It may be why money’s so tight, but Joey doesn’t blame her.  _ “-you have to step up!” _

One time she was really upset when he was caught graffiting and she told him to either go to school and get a job, because he wasn’t being helpful. It… stung, and his mother started apologizing as soon as she said it, but Joey got the message. If he sucked so much at school, he might as well do something productive and actually fucking meaningful.

So he got a job. He got a shitty little job in the shitty little store that everyone came to. Most people just came in and got their stuff and left, but a few of them who wanted to start shit would come in there every day and taunt him, tease him and use racial slurs- until the manager shoo’ed them out.

Until Frank became his friend, then it all came to a sudden halt. The bullying, the taunting, the slurs- he knew Frank had a knife with him all the time, and Joey knows for a fact that Frank can and will whip it out if he feels threatened. That’s probably why the manager of the store fired him after a good six months of employment and raking in enough money to buy a beat up truck that ran like a golden chariot.

Honestly, he would be mad, but he knew the more he hung out with Frank, the more he would be considered with a “bad crowd”, and the more “bad crowd” people would come in and hang around the store. In a way, he saw it coming. At least the manager gave him his full pay. Not many would do that for him.

But Frank… whoo boy, Frank was  _ pissed.  _ Pissed that they would fire him for just hanging out with them. He even implied that the manager was racist for firing him. Yeah, it could be seen that way, but… when he told his mother that he got fired, the look on her face…

Just remembering the look on her face made him  _ angry  _ that he was fired. For a couple of months, they didn’t have to worry about paying the bills, keeping them fed, keeping his sisters in nice clothes, but now they would have to worry about it again, and Joey doubts he’ll get another job in this city- and they don’t have the money to move.

The more he thought about it and listened to Frank talk, the angrier he got. He wasn’t a bad employee! He even worked overtime- and the bastard just fired him like that, knowing his situation and all!?! No- Frank was right, they gotta teach that man a lesson.

They gotta teach everyone not to mess with the Legion.


	13. D.J.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hate this rat man so let's get this over with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know who I hate more than the Legion? This stinky ass Floridaman here. His onyl redeeming quality is that he's a Floridaman- but still.

Ah… he loved the smell of dumb bitches dying in the morning.

Usually Danny was  _ extremely  _ picky about who he killed, when, where,  _ why-  _ but sometimes, he just couldn’t  _ help himself  _ in killing someone on the fly.

This time? A blonde with too much makeup and whose perfume was too pugnant for him to stand jogged beside him on his daily runs through the park and  _ would not leave him alone.  _ She was even hitting on him! She was  _ definitely not  _ his type, and he couldn’t stand her presence anymore.

He even politely told her to fuck off once, which she ignored, probably thinking he was just playing hard to get. Hopefully, she got the message when he slowed down to jog behind her just enough to slip on his  _ business  _ gloves, pull out his knife without alerting her and wrapped an arm around her neck and pulled her into the trees. 

She screamed once until he told her to be  _ quiet  _ or he would slit her throat right then and there. Dumbly, she mutely nodded in agreement, and quieted down to just ugly whimpers and sobs, begging him to let her go, that she has a poodle at home and she goes to college and she has a elderly mother and she volunteers at the soup kitchen and-

“ _ And, and, and, a-and _ \- you’re just begging for your life here.” Danny threw her on the dirt, climbing on top of her and holding the knife to her throat. She looked up at him, her big, blue eyes filled with tears as she continued begging and pleading for her life, promising that she wouldn’t tell  _ anybody- _

“They all say the same thing, sweetheart.” He pressed the knife deeper, watching a thin trickle of blood ooze from the knifepoint. She cried and shook harder. 

_ If she wasn’t so dumb, she might’ve been able to get the upper hand on him. There were several rocks nearby, and she looked strong enough to at least get him good with one. She could scream, and probably someone would hear her. She could at least  _ **_fight back, for God’s sake-_ **

It was frustrating, but Danny supposed that it was best she didn’t fight back, because it was a situation like this that would cut it close. Not that he would  _ ever  _ get caught… but he’s had a few close calls before. Which reminded him- he looked at his watch and decided that after he killed her, he could have to go home early and clean up so he wasn’t late for work.

“Shame.” He rasped out, pressing the knife deeper and relishing the fear in her eyes, the way the adrenaline was rushing through her veins making her body hum  _ for him, and only him-  _ “I would teach you a lesson, but I have to get to work. Gotta pay the bills just like everybody else, you know?”

“Please…” She begged, and Danny was starting to get sick of her whiny voice. Insanely, he saw a flash of hope dance across her eyes. “..are you gonna let me go?” 

Danny smiled like a predator with a meal inbetween his teeth; she really was fucking dumb, wasn’t she? It would be a blessing if he killed her before she could reproduce. “Not hardly, babydoll.”   
  


He only got to see the terminal fear for a few moments, the realization that washed over her that she was about to actually _ die  _ and there was nothing she could do about it, but Danny will remember it fondly when he comes home from work tonight and relaxes with his cat, Inky. Pressing a gloved hand over her mouth as he correctly guessed that she screamed out for help, Danny pressed the knife all the way through her throat, windpipe, and cervical vertebrae, granting her a suffocating but relatively quick death. He would've loved to have made her choke on his knife as he pressed it through her neck inch by inch… but he didn’t have the time, nor did he have the security of doing so, as more people would be out and about within the hour.

He watched the light drain from her eyes with no remorse and a sadistic glee, feeling the sense of  _ power  _ that he got when he killed somebody, watched their lifeforce ebb away… it was fap-worthy, but alas, he didn’t have the time to bust one out. Blue balls today at work, it seems.

Once all the life had drained out of her eyes, Danny stood up and wiped his blade on her clothes and took a look at his own. He could tell there was some dark blood splattered on his upper chest, but he was wearing a black hoodie so as long as no one got a close look, he would be fine if he hurried back to his car. But first… the body. Normally, when he killed people in their homes, there was no need to hide the clear evidence of a family massacre, but he wanted  _ this one  _ not found until so much time had passed that they couldn’t trace all the people who had come here to the park.

But before he did that, he whipped out his camera and snapped several pictures of the dead woman from different angles, and told himself that he would decide to keep only a couple when he got off of work tonight.

Grabbing her hands after putting his camera away, he pulled her arms up and drug her further into the trees, far, far away from the jogging trail until even he could see it himself, and concealed her body as best as he could with leaves, dirt, and branches that he broke off from different trees. If all went well, animals would have eaten most of her body by the time anyone would her and there would be no DNA left to tie it to him, if there was any he had accidently left behind  _ (he didn’t think so, but you never know. He’s heard of a serial killer that got caught using DNA found from a single eyelash and he doesn’t want to be That Guy.) _

And, to make it seem like it wasn’t a random killing, Danny went through her limited pockets and the small sachel-like thing she had slung around her shoulders and see what she had on her. Numerous credit cards, bar cards, random memberships and phone numbers… nearly $150 in cash.  _ Bingo.  _ Considering it as a winner’s prize, Danny pocketed the money and went through her wallet once more until he found her Driver’s License, and slipped it out of its protective casing.

Everybody had a thing they collected, his was a Driver's License if he could get one. A normal ID would do just fine, though.

“Let’s see…” It was so hard to get them out of wallets! He spent a good time trying to wiggle it out because the bitch had some many other cards in there, they had all become glued together. But finally, he got it out.

Yep, it was her alright, with even more makeup and slutty eyeshadow to boot.  _ Cassidy Ainesworth. _ A nice name for a horrible excuse of a person. 

The general public should be grateful he killed her. 

Taking a few random credit cards that he didn’t even plan on using, he tossed her wallet and purse to the side like a careless robber, and headed back to the trail, hiding out for a few minutes to make sure the coast was clear.

Once he was sure nobody was going to see him come out of the woods, he casually stepped back out and hurried to his car, climbing in and driving straight home. First thing he did was take off his blood-stained jacket and throw it in the fire barrel for later, then checked himself over for any more blood splatter. Seeing that there was not a speck of bitch blood on him, he quickly wiped down the front seat of the car, just in case some blood dripped down anywhere else and then went on to make himself a quick breakfast, put some food and water out for Inky, and drove back to work.

He was even a few minutes early. Lucky him, because he was charged with writing a quick piece about an increase in muggings in Roseville...


	14. F.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank gets his ass handed to him.
> 
> A fic of my OC beating his Canadian ass, like he deserves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes for the Shadow bc I had no clue what else to do and I hate Frank Morrison with all of my heart and soul:
> 
> The Shadow is basically just Feng Min as a killer, but doesn't drink or do drugs and a lil bit too Dumb to be a professional video gamer.
> 
> Uses... shadows as her power. Like I have a single vague memory of an animated Peter Pan movie where he like, plays with a shadow. That's what the Shadow does, but more ninja-y and 100000% cooler. 
> 
> Has a special lil shadow knife she can pull from shadows and fuck you up with. It, like, fucks up your soul when it stabs u so Don't Do That.

Even though he couldn’t see  _ her _ , Frank knew she was just looming around the corner, any corner- waiting to pounce on him the moment he let his guard down. 

Frank loves Julie to death, but he’s never, ever taking her up on a dare ever again, especially if it involves coming here to The Shadow’s little...pocket forest. Frank sighed heavily; there wasn’t even anything remotely interesting. Just a mesh of Trapper’s Forest, The Swamp and if you walked far enough, you’d run into the Clown’s little creepy circus area that Frank wouldn’t go to for all the money in the world and escape this place. Not even if it meant he could go back to Mount Ormond- the  _ real  _ Mount Ormond, as much as he loathed to return there.

Killing the same people over and over got boring after a while, and chasing lost its thrill and luster along with life here. He had already hated it here in Mount Ormond, but after awhile he realized that he was going to be there a majority of the time, he found himself pushing the boundaries of other Killers, wandering into the territories without permission-

A wind brushed against his tense shoulder blades, and Frank whipped around, making sure his knife was out for everybody to see. Looking around proved to be difficult with his mask on, so Frank took it off for survival's sake and tossed it on the ground to collect later, even though it made him feel uncomfortable and  _ vulnerable _ to be maskless _.  _ “Listen, Shadow- I know you’re here.” He actually didn’t know for  _ sure  _ if she was here and may as well have been making himself look like an idiot, but paranoia crept up in his chest, threatening to choke him with an invisible lump in his throat. 

Frank kept his compuse because he  _ wasn’t  _ afraid of some girl who could turn into a shadow and do freaky ninja shit, and he wasn’t going to be seen as a coward and back out of a dare. “I’m just passing through.”  _ Passing through to grab one of your overly-fancy coats.  _ He hated to admit it, but even though the Shadow usually dressed in mostly all black, she did have good fashion sense… if she was from 18th century Victorian England.

Frank makes his way towards a very small, almost indistinguishable hill where a house stands, a single light on inside gleaming invitingly through a window. It’s nowhere near as big as the Resort, but it’s definitely bigger than a shack and it makes Frank jealous that  _ she  _ gets a house to herself away from everybody else in warm weather and he’s stuck in a literal perpetual mountain snowstorm shitshow. “So don’t…” Frank trails off, making sure not to step in any possible soggy, marsh-y spots that were run-off from the Swamp as he gets to the first step on the small porch. “...I don’t know, attack me, I guess.”

He puts his empty hand on the doorknob, and it’s locked. It’s almost enough of a deterrence to make him run back down and all the way back to Ormond, but  _ he’s  _ not a coward, and he’s not scared of a woman who looked like she would be blown over if a strong enough wind came through  _ (no matter how tall she was). _ But….after what she did to Ghostface, he’s not going to take any chances in incurring her wrath.

Looking around excessively, Frank wedged the blade of his knife where the doorjam was, and jiggled it until he managed to wedge it in far enough to force the door open. Taking a deep breath, Frank slowly pushed the door open, relieved when it didn’t squeak or fall off the hinges as it seems to do in all horror movies and took a step inside-

The door jumped out of his hand and slammed shut behind him. By the time he had managed to turn around to see  _ why  _ the door had done that, he was pushed downwards by an invisible force and cracked his skull against the hardwood. 

Stars shot across his vision, but Frank could still make out the shape of the Shadow swinging a leg out as she loomed over him, sporting a black jacket with white racing stripes coming from the neck and down the arms, blue sweatpants and a wide, lopsided smile. “Surprise, bitch!” They yelled out, and Frank was kicked inbetween his legs,  _ hard _ , and he pitched to the side, retching up nothing because it’s not like the Entity actually cares enough to  _ feed  _ them. 

Clutching his groin and groaning in agony, Frank involuntarily curled up into the ball when the Shadow raised her foot again, but the fellow Killer just planted it firmly on his hip while Frank frantically blinked away the stars and tried to remember where his knife went because he  _ wasn’t holding it anymore  _ and that was a bad omen. “Fuck you, y-you pale bitch.” Frank spat at her, but it mostly just ended up being spittle leaking from the corner of his mouth like an infant.

“Um,  _ you’re  _ the pale bitch on my floor here,  _ bitch _ .” The Shadow pressed down on his hip harder until his bones popped… it was actually a bit of relief, maybe he needed to see a chiropractor. The Shadow spit on  _ him _ when he tried to spit on his again, and managed to hit her shoe on the floor. “I know you  _ just  _ didn’t spit on me after  _ you  _ broke in here.” God, he hated the sound of her voice, especially when it was mocking him, the sound a mix between someone with too much nose and not enough estrogen and caught halfway inbetween. Frank attempted to get up by rolling onto his front, but the foot on his hip just ended up pressing him to the ground when the sole of her shoe lined up with his spine inbetween his shoulder blades.

“Just let me up!” Frank yelled, attempting to get up but the pressure was too great, so he slung his arms behind him in an attempt to push her foot off, but couldn’t because of his position on the floor.

“Let you up and what? What were you gonna do, Frank?” The question went unanswered as Frank managed to dig his nails into the Shadow’s leg hard enough that she took her weight off his back, allowing him to roll over and quickly get to his feet. The world spun when he got up so fast, and Frank had to grab onto the rungs of a nearby chair so he didn’t immediately fall over. Eyes frantically searched the ground for his knife-

The Shadow cleared her throat.

Frank looked up and saw her holding his knife in her hand, examining it like a valued treasure. To Frank it was, and he definitely didn’t want her handing it. Frank growled and took a step forward, hoping to dissuade her from holding it hostage from her. 

It only served for her to narrow her eyes at him behind thick glasses. “Oh, you think you’s a feral bitch, huh?” She taunted, and it only pissed Frank off more.

“Look- just give me back my knife, and I’ll leave.”  _ Fuck the dare _ , it’s not like he could do it now, anyways. He’d rather go back to Ormond and spin a wild tale about fending off the Shadow in a legendary fight then actually  _ getting  _ into a fight with the Shadow. Even though he’s sure he could win… the images of a decapitated Ghostface circulated through his mind and he’d rather not take any chances.

“Why?” The Shadow leaned to one side, poking her hip out as she thought out loud. “Why in the world would I give you a weapon when you broke into my house with said weapon with unknown intents and purposes? I know I have Dumb Bitch Disease, but I ain’t that dumb.” The Shadow chuckled at him, and it sounded like a fish choking on air and he wanted to strangle her. She shook her fuzzy head and cut him a glare. “No, you can leave  _ now  _ without your knife and I won’t beat your ass, how ‘bout that?”

Frank pulled back his lips in a snarl: how dare she think she can send him running out of here like a dog with his tail between his legs? He’ll leave on his goddamn terms. “How ‘bout you give me back my knife back and I won’t  _ gut  _ you with it, a’ight?” Mocking her Southern _ (at least he thought it was southern, he wasn’t American) _ accent, Frank watched as her lips curled and she cackled like a witch in a storybook story, looking him up and down, making Frank feel uneasy.

“Oh, you think you a bad bitch, huh?” The Shadow taunted, gripping his knife with purpose in her right hand before switching it to her left and pulling her Shadow knife out of… he didn’t know where, but it looked like she pulled it out of thin air and suddenly Frank realized that he might be in danger of actually being hurt, especially when she advanced on him, one silent footstep at a time. He’s been cut with that thing once before and it  _ hurt like a bitch. _

Frank looked behind him for anything he could use to fend her off with, but the table was bare except a heavy golden leaf bowl and some books. The bowl would have to do; his hands itched towards it, but didn’t make a move for it just yet so he didn’t let the Shadow know what he was planning to use as a weapon. “It seems we’re at an impasse, then.” The Shadow mused, bringing her shadow knife forward to point directly at Frank’s neck.  _ Maybe I can stun her with the bowl long enough to run for the door,  _ Frank planned, sweat beading at his brow and dripping down his neck. His pulse raced in his throat, adrenaline fueling his racing thoughts.  _ Her left side is weak, as long as I stay on her left- _

“Last chance, buddy-ro.” The Shadow was just out of arm’s reach, but Frank felt as if her breath was crawling down his neck, and felt a tickle at his ankles. He darted his eyes down just for a moment and saw a dark mist curling unnaturally around his shoes.  _ Her shadows.  _ “Leave without the knife or I’ll  _ make _ you leave.”

“No way.” Frank hissed out, hating how breathless he sounded but that wasn’t his main concern at the moment. The Shadow tilted her head to the side before suddenly jerking to the side- Frank recognized that move and darted to the side just as the mist around his feet tucked at his pants, grabbing the golden bowl off the table and tossing it as hard as he could at the woman-

Her left arm came up and intersected with his, blocking him from completing his throw and a sharp pain blossomed in his upper arm and shoulder area so fierce he felt it in his  _ soul,  _ or whatever he had left of one. Screaming in pain, Frank dropped the bowl and fell to the ground, clutching his bleeding arm and crawling away from the Shadow under the table.

“Where ya goin’?!” The Shadow yelled like a maniac, and Frank scrambled away from her when she reached out to grab his ankle. She missed the grab, and it gave Frank the chance to crawl out from the other side of the table and get to his feet, running across the living space-

Something grabbed his entire lower leg and pulled his back down to the floor, face first and his nose cracked painfully. Frank was dimly aware of the Shadow leaping over the table and crouch-landing next to his face, her light blue Vans blowing gentle air in his face. Thin and delicate fingers gripped one of his ears and pulled his head back so he could blink up at her through tears of pain that dotted his eyes against his will.

“You wanna walk outta here with some dignity or do you actually want me to kill yo’ ass?” The Shadow presented him with an ultimatum, along with the tip of her shadow knife pressed against his jaw. Frank scowled at her and tasted blood. “Fuck you!” He spat out, and lashed out, hitting her hard enough in her knee with his fist that she fell with the side with a squeak of pain and grabbed the joint. Frank took his chance and  _ ran _ , knocking over a chair and throwing the door open, feeling the tendrils of her shadows licking at his shoulders as he sprinted for his life.

He heard the sound of something hitting wood, and the Shadow yelled at him  _ “why are you running? Why are you running?”  _ as Frank ran for his life. He wasn’t going to lie to himself that he was scared  _ shitless _ now, especially after he’d gotten a taste of what her shadow knife felt like, and it didn’t even go that deep. And Frank knew she was crazy and determined enough to kill him. And  _ Ghostface… that poor man- _

Frank felt himself suddenly pulled backwards by hands that weren’t there, and he was twisted and wrenched to his side before landing on the ground on his hurt side. Crying out as the wound on his arm impacted the dirt, Frank put his arms up in front of him as a dark shape loomed over him.

Fear poured out of his throat. “I’m-I’m sorry! I’ll leave, please, don’t kill me!” Her presence was in his face, shadows looming all around him, dancing and mocking him as the Shadow cackled above him, and Frank closed his eyes as he saw her raise her knife above him, waiting for the inevitable…

A thud shocked his eyes back open, and he saw his knife buried next to his head, a centimeter away from his ears.

“I like men like you!” She said, and she sat on his chest and grabbed his jaw firmly with pale fingers to make him look at her. He doubted if her comment was sincere. “You think you’re so bad, that you all  _ this  _ and you’re a bad motherfucker- but then you’re faced with danger and you run and beg for your life! You look so scared right now, haha!” He watched a manic smile spread over his face and crinkle her eyes before she slammed his head back into the dirt, discombobulating him while she got up and hovered over him.

The Shadow sighed, dropping her shoulders and the crazy grin on her face. “Oh, you must think I’m crazy.” Frank grabbed his knife out of the ground and scrambled to his feet, making sure his knife was pointed at her while he backed away. The Shadow rolled her eyes and fiddled with her knife, taking a threatening step towards Frank as he took two back. “I promise I’m not really like  _ this-  _ it’s just dumb hoes like you piss me off and I have to assert dominace.” She explained, and Frank gave her a look of disagreement.

“I doubt that. I saw what you did to Ghostface-”

The Shadow waved his hand at him. “I did that to him because I’m  _ better  _ than him. And  _ you _ . Fucking twinks.” The Shadow gave him a wide-eyed look, and Frank looked behind him, walking backwards much faster than he had been. He had his mouth open to retort that he  _ wasn’t a twink  _ when suddenly, the Shadow lunged forward, and Frank took off, running for Mount Ormond as fast as his legs would carry him. He ignored the way the Shadow cackled at his retreating form and already began conjuring up in his mind what he was gonna tell the rest of the Legion when he got back as to why he returned empty handed, bleeding and scared witless.

The Shadow sighed, and debated on whether to go after him or return back home to clean up the mess Frank made, and decided on the latter. “Ah well-” She muttered to herself. “-maybe the rest of those fuckers will think I’m too crazy to fuck with and leave me the hell alone.”


	15. M.T. JR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby boy gets his revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let this man be FERAL.

He ran.

He heard his Father’s voice yelling at him in the way he does when he’s done something wrong. He knows he’s done something wrong, and now he’s scared, so that’s why he’s running!

“Get back here! Imma kill you, you ungrateful monster!”

Father’s very, very angry, and he knows that if he catches him, that he’s really gonna hurt him. Really, really gonna hurt him. He hasn't been in the house much except for certain occasions such as bathing or when he got sick, and he would be restrained and threatened with a real beating if he tried to escape. His heart rushes with fear as he runs into an open room, filled with more chairs and tables and things that he’s only had a few glimpses of before. He doesn’t know what to do, but Father is stomping down the hallway after him, and he knows he has to get away.

_ I’m free.  _ He thinks, squinting his eyes against the bright lights and spotting a single door across the room.  _ I ain’t restrained no more.  _ He could run! He could-

“SON OF A BITCH!” Father’s voice yelled out, and Billy felt the room shake with his heavy footsteps. A thrill of fear and submission raced up his crooked spine, and he almost fell at his Father’s feet in regret. But if he did that, he had a feeling in the pit of his withered belly that he wouldn’t get up.

Father entered the room, and they locked eyes. Father and son. He couldn’t shake the fear he felt prickling his skin as his father stared at him with such hate and loathing in his eyes like he’d never seen before.

“You…” His father started, pointing at him. “...after all we’ve done for you? We fed you, bathed you, kept you well when you were sick- and you… you-you  _ bludgeoned  _ your mother unconscious!?!” He advanced towards him, and he backed away in fear. “We kept you alive when a lot of other parents would’ve  _ drowned  _ you at birth, you fucking inbred monster- and this is how you thank us?!”

He stared. “Can you even understand what I’m saying, you little basta-”

“Yes.” No, not  _ yes, sir  _ or  _ no, sir _ . Just yes. Yes, he understood what he was saying. But what he didn’t understand was why Father thought like that. It took him a long time to realize it, but he heard through the cracks in the floor about other children. How they had parties. Celebrations. Festivals. Went to school. Birthdays. He never got any of those things, no matter how good or quiet he was behind his brick wall.

He had thought for a long time that maybe he just wasn’t being good enough, but he could never be good enough, he realized. So when Mother entered through the iron door with the collar and hand ties that she always made him wear when it was bathing time, he picked up a loose brick he had wedged from the wall and hit her on the head, face, chest- over and over again until the sound of his father’s boots entering the home scared him enough that he stopped and hid until he came downstairs and found his wife in a pool of her own blood and he slipped away.

Father was shocked when he responded, so he talked again before he could speak. “Yes, I understand.” He spoke very clearly, proud of himself for speaking very good. He did, he did understand! And he understood what it meant when Father said he was going to kill him. Make him dead. Make him stop breathing, living-

Father was surprised by this answer, and stood upright while catching his breath. “Well…” He started, looked around, and then leaned over into a small closet and opened it.

When he leaned back out to where he could see him, he could see he had a heavy mallet in his hand. He’s seen it before, when he was younger and more rowdier and disobeyed more often. A hard lump formed in his throat, his hands shaking when memories of the pain it caused resurfaced.

His father looked at him with a blank expression, in fact, he would dare say that his father looked…  _ happy.  _ “I hope you understand what I’m ‘bout to do next.”

He did. Every time Father had taken out the mallet, he always would tell him that if he didn’t behave, he would beat him to death with it. He was sure Father was going to kill him with it. 

_...He was going to try, at least. _ Survival instincts kicked in, and he looked around for something, anything to fend off Father with as he advanced towards him. His eyes landed on a small vase, and he picked it up and threw it at Father with all his strength. It shattered against Father’s chest and he staggered back with a yell, and he took the opportunity and ran out the door.

“BOY!” His Father’s roar echoed all over the place, and the warm wind of Outside hit him in a rush. It had been so long since he had been Outside, he had almost forgotten what it looked like, corn stretching forever and ever… he ran for the corn rows, their leaves scratching all of his exposed skin on his face and arms. His left leg dragging behind him in lameness, he ran blindly through the corn-

  
“Quit runnin’! You lil’ bastard, quit runnin’! You know what you’ve done!” He did… he did know what he done, and he didn’t feel bad. It felt  _ good  _ to beat Mother with that brick. It helped to soothe his wounds, old and new, from where she would beat him with items if he stepped too close or messed up her pretty clothes. It made him feel better, better because Mother deserved to be beaten because she beat him.

Through the leaves of the corn, he spotted a dark building up ahead. He had seen animals go in here, but never any come out. He didn’t know what was in there to stop animals from coming back out, but there had to be something in there to help him because Father was catching up to him quickly.

The front of it was open, and he ran inside and saw a bunch of things he didn’t recognize, so he hid behind a cow that was hanging upside down from the ceiling in a side room. A few moments later, Father’s footsteps echoed throughout the building and reverbated within his thin chest.

“You little shit, where are ya’?!” Father called out, kicking something over loud enough for him to whimper. “I know’re in here! Come out and kneel over for me, will ya? Make it a lot easier on me!” Father was slowly coming closer to him, and his head spun as he thought quickly on what to do. Father would find him eventually, and when he did he was going to beat him to death with the mallet! That meant he had to beat Father like he did Mother, but Father was bigger and stronger, and he would need more than a brick to beat him with.

“I don’t think you know-” Father knocked over something again, and he spotted a table with some items on it. “-but your Mama was the only reason why you’re alive. See, when we got married-” Father hit something that made a disgusting, squelching sound that almost made him throw up. “-I didn’t think anything was wrong. We were so happy, and when she got pregnant and had her baby… when she had  _ you…  _ you ruined everything!” There looked to be a little jagged knife on the table, and he picked it up by the non-spiky end and inspected it closely.

“You came out horrid, all twisted and gnarled and hurt your mother so bad the doctors told her she’d better not risk having another baby. See, before you would even babble you ruined our lives!” Another loud crash scared another whimper out of him, but he gripped the handle of the knife and held it to his chest. “I asked the doctors ‘why, oh why is our baby cursed so?’ and they told me that it was because me and your mama was related.” Another crash, this time closer, and the shadow of his father leaned around the small room he was curled up in.  _ He’s gonna get me! I gotta fight him! _

“I was so confused, but they told me it had to be true ‘cause there was no other explanation for it. Turns out, it was true.” He’d never heard his father laugh like that before, high-pitched and stuttering. Father was coming close enough that he could smell the lingering odor of sweat, dirt, and moonshine wafting from him. He tucked himself behind a hanging cow, gripping the handle until his yellow knuckles turned pink.

“Didn’t know it, but our parents were real close growing up. I thought they were just real good neighbors, but turns out my daddy liked her mama a lil’ bit more than that.” Father was so close, his shadow getting darker and darker…

“I wanted to get rid of ya, but your mama begged to keep you. She said that we had already committed a grievous sin in the eyes of God already, and killing ya would be unforgivable. But now that you’ve killed her-” Father stepped ahead of where he was, and he saw his father’s head and body slowly turn around to face him as he was raising the mallet.

He knew he was here, and he knew if he didn’t hit him now, he would be beat to death. He buried the knife in his Father’s chest, and he screamed and dropped the mallet, clutching where he had the knife buried until he fell to the ground. Still holding the knife, it made a sickening sound as it slid from Father’s body- he was suddenly standing over the man. He dropped the knife, and picked up the mallet his father dropped.

“You-” His father coughed up blood and spat it at his bare feet. “-whose gonna take care of you?” He had a feeling that his father was scared by the way he was shaking all over. “Whose gonna take care of ya now!?!”

He scowled, hate and rage bubbling forth from his chest in a snarl. He doesn’t know how, but he pulls words from his mind. “Not you!” He brought the mallet down on Father’s head, over and over and over and over-! 

He didn’t stop until he kept hitting the solid floor beneath, and his arms and legs gave out from exertion.

  
He couldn’t quite grasp the concept yet, but he knew he was  _ free. _


	16. L.S.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can tell I don't know much about Laurie but I know she Stabs.
> 
> feat. crazy ass Laurie Strode who likes being toxic and stabbing killers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was busy writing other stuff all day aihsidhasd

Laurie thinks it’s humorous to think about the night Myers came to kill her, and she struggled to pick up a weapon to hurt him with. Now, she carries weapons with her all the time to stab even more Killers with.

_ Decisive Strike.  _ It’s very decisive, all right. It strikes very hard, too.

She’s not quite sure what’s happened to her in her years trapped by the Entity. She’s changed, that’s for sure- for better or worse, she can’t tell. But she’s changed. Laurie will gladly stab  _ anybody  _ to keep her close friends safe. Myers, Trapper, Oni, any one of them she would take a piece of glass and shove it in their hearts to keep everyone safe from harm. 

...sometimes, she feels like she doesn’t need a reason to stab the killers. She just… does. Feng Min jokes that she has a stabbing problem, and truthfully, she probably does. It scares her a little bit thinking about that, that maybe the rumors about Michael being her brother was true, that stabbing people was in her blood. The rush of power she gets every time she stabs the killers is  _ incomparable  _ to any other rush she’s felt. 

Laurie should probably be concerned about what’s happening to her. Be really concerned about using her Object of Obsession to taunt the killers and baiting them to tunnel and kill her  _ just so  _ she can use her Decisive Strike- but she’s not. She’s sure the others do worse things.

  
And she isn’t going to change back to the way she was. Not a chance; the old Laurie Strode was weak, flimsy, easily beaten- she won’t be like that ever again. The glass shard in her pocket is warm to the touch despite her never holding it, and Laurie laughs softly. She looks around and spots the familiar aura of the Huntress. Hopefully she’ll take the bait and come greet her. She can’t  _ wait  _ to stab her.


	17. Adiris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adiris walks like Beyonce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adiris and Anna... I've started shipping them because of this send help

Despite vomiting all the time now, Adiris hates vomiting. Before she had gotten sick, the simple sight of someone gagging would be enough to send her last meal racing to her mouth, but she does it all the time- she  _ must, _ for the Gods will it. She must vomit to infect the unfaithful to punish them for their ignorance and to appease the Gods' everlasting appetite for the blood of the infidels.

Back in Babylon _ (or is she still in Babylon? She doesn’t think so) _ , people would bring in those accused of being an apostate or worshiping false idols and toss them at her feet for her, the High Priestess, to decide their fate. Many would be yelling, screaming and pounding on the floor for her to order them to death, to be crushed with stones or beaten to a bloody mess… but she was merciful, always giving those accused a chance to speak. Like she was given a chance when all the other priests and priestesses died to become the High Priestess, who was orphaned on the steps of a temple as an unwanted child in a family of too many girls.

The Gods gave her a second chance, so she, as a vessel of the Gods, gave everyone a second chance. But not a third. Never a third.

Now, though… the Gods say differently. Or, the one God that she serves directly says differently. That these people have been given plenty of chances, and they have squandered them, committed unspeakable blasphemous crimes and have desecrated holy temples-  _ no _ , the Gods spoke to her,  _ these people deserve no chance of redemption. _ So Adiris punishes them as the Gods will it- hang them up on hooks as offering to her overlords. It’s different from what they used to do in Babylon, to say the least, and she’s sure that even her most devoted followers would cry in horror if they saw what fate had befallen her and the unfaithful, but it is the Gods’ wish, and she must carry out those wishes. Else she would not be worthy to be the High Priestess.

Especially during the times when she is brought out to hunt the infidels, the Gods whisper in her ear what they want her to do. Hunt. Bleed. Main. Hang. Stop the light from being turned on. She doesn’t understand the machines the infidels seem to crawl all over like bugs, but the Gods tell her that every one that is turned on hurts them, so she must stop as many from being turned on as possible.  _ She sometimes wonders why the Gods just don’t take these machines away like it takes away other things all the time, but she chases those blasphemous thoughts from her head since she doesn’t know what the Gods intentions are behind their will. _

Adiris stays mostly to herself, as all of her other fellow servants do not speak her language or any language she’s heard before, with one exception. She shares the lands of her temple with another woman, as tall as her but in far better shape and wears a hard mask fashioned to resemble a rabbit with a black veil. They first met when it was cold, far colder than it had ever been in Babylon, and Adiris found herself unable to stand the cold in her temple, no matter how brightly she tried to keep her fires lit. So, she trekked to the land of the large bunny woman, and plopped herself down in front of her roaring fireplace.

She fell asleep nearly instantly, and when she had woken up, she found herself draped in several heavy furs from some animals she did not recognize, and the large bunny woman herself sitting at her table, rubbing some oil on his small axes. The way that the large bunny woman looked at her, as if she was prey at the mercy of a predator, scared Adiris for a few moments especially when she realised that she was defenseless, but then the bunny woman’s eyes softened behind her mask and her lips relaxed, and she offered her some...meat.

She still doesn’t know what kind of meat it was, but it was good enough that Adiris ate it all without complaint. It took a little bit of work, but Adiris managed to finally put a name to the large bunny woman: Anna. A short and easy name to pronounce. Adiris now visits Anna more often, especially when it is cold, but the language barrier is hard to break, especially when it seems that Anna has a limited vocabulary to begin with. But Anna likes to take Adiris hunting- or, rather, let Adiris walk behind her as she goes a little  _ wild  _ with her axes. She finds it somehow  _ enthralling  _ to watch Anna hunt down animals like a natural-born predator, the way she tracks it down and makes the trees run red with blood.

Adiris says a prayer to the Gods every time Anna has a successful hunt, and even though Anna probably can’t understand what she’s saying, Anna always gives her a lopsided smile that makes warmth bloom in her chest. Anytime Anna smiles at her, even over simple things such as making pelts or letting Anna help clean her temple, makes her chest warm, which radiates to her neck, face, stomach...

Perhaps she has fallen for the woman? Priestesses weren’t exactly allowed to have relationships with other people, especially foreigners, but she is clearly not in Babylon anymore, and the Gods have not interfered with her seeing Anna or whispered in her ears to stop thinking about the woman so much or that her feelings were improper. Anna was extremely strong and sturdy, lifting her up off her feet sometimes when the sickness became too much for her, but yet she still had the graceness of a woman that showed when Anna would cook for her, give her furs and drink and play with her hair and touch the still unscarred side of her face.

Sometimes, there are moments where they stare at each other too long, or Anna hugs her and Adiris has to beat the woman’s arm to let her go because she is being crushed to death, and it gives Adiris hope. Hope that Anna will one day understand what she feels and she’ll know enough of her language to communicate her feelings. But for now, she’ll continue to lay with Anna by the fireplace under countless furs, even when it’s not cold. Anna’s even given her some of her furs, and Adiris sleeps well with the scent of Anna filling her nostrils.

Maybe one day the Gods will make her well again, well enough that Anna could touch her all over without being revolved or worry about catching her sickness too. Gods willing; that’s why she’s so devoted to her new job. She wants to serve the Gods forever with Anna- that would be the perfect afterlife for her.


	18. M.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bichael Byers approaches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leg

Haddonfield isn’t the same as it was the night he came back to kill  _ Laurie Strode _ . The thing- the Entity, that kept him here, changed it to the point where it was barely recognizable. But Michael got used to it, adapted to it, and still prowled the suburban streets all the same, killing anybody the Entity drops on  _ his _ streets and in  _ his  _ houses.

But like the Sanitorium, he eventually got tired of the same houses and cars and light poles that repeated without, and he ventured out to explore other territories. Now, Michael Myers didn’t make  _ friends,  _ his brain was not exactly  _ wired  _ correctly to do that, but there were certainly realms that he prefered over others, and some that he really didn’t like.

Lery’s- the Doctors place- was at the top of his  _ do not like _ list. Having spent many years in a mental hospital made his dislike of hospital-like places and doctors far too perentant to put into words  _ (good thing he didn’t speak).  _ And when he first met the doctor, the gray-skinned beast had said he had wanted to “experiment” on him… there were very few things that made Michael uncomfortable, but Lery’s and the Doctor combined made his skin crawl. He and the Doctor had a physical fight that ended in a draw, Michael limping away after stabbing the Doctor in the arms so many times he couldn’t pick up his large stick anymore.

Michael hasn’t voluntarily returned there since then. The only time he’s there is when the Entity puts him there, and he gets the trial over with as fast as he can so he can get out of there. He’s even given up the opportunity to get a kill in favor of just standing outside in the snow when the smell of the hospital got too much for him. The Entity was displeased afterwards, but he didn’t care about displeasing it then. If it didn’t want to be displeased, then it shouldn’t put him in there.

Despite the fact that he has an inordinate amount of trouble seeing in the corn, he enjoys the Coldwinds farm the best. It’s naturally warm there, but the cool breeze prevents him from getting too hot. The beast there, however, does not always take too kindly to his presence, often accusing him of “staring too much”, but  _ that’s what he does.  _ But as long as he avoids the beast and the beast avoids him, Michael is free to enjoy the temperate environment of Coldwind.

At the end of the day, though, he prefers to reside in his old house until the time comes where the Entity summons him to kill again. He can wait.


	19. Arcus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> O u t s i d e

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People (points at myself) needs to write for this man more. He needs more fanfiction!

After countless logs, memories, glasses of whiskey, items crafted by his hands, Arcus has had enough.

He was going stir crazy. Granted, he had been making his little castle bigger and bigger to help combat the caged-in feeling that had been slowly taking over him, but within the past few days, no matter how many new rooms he added in, he couldn’t shake the itch in his legs.

Arcus  _ needed  _ to go outside, despite the fact that the “outside” was just empty, black void filled with dark mist and Gods know what else out there. He feels pathetic in a sense: he’s a grown man in his mid-80s and should be able to beat back the childish urge to go frolic in a field of flowers,but he finds he can’t. Arcus can’t  _ stand  _ being trapped in his own figurative and literal prison for much longer.

But he knows he can’t just  _ rush  _ out the front door  _ (he has to make a front door just for this occasion),  _ so he carefully plans out his first outing and takes many precautions, even writing a note just in case something happens to him and he doesn’t return. Although, he’s not even sure if all of this will remain if he were to perish- even going outside the walls of his tower may lead to some level of deconstruction, but at least he’ll learn something from it if it were to occur.

His foot taps against the hardwood floor as he finishes his letter and seals the envelope, and places it on the large front desk in the central room. Anxiety bubbles in his chest from what he’s about to do, but he tells himself when the envelope hits the desk, there’s no turning back now. 

So, he now stands at the double front doors he spent an inordinate time making, empty-handed and fingertips tingling with excitement. He’s wearing the clothes he had been wearing for a while now, plus a light brown jacket to protect against the dankness of the Fog that he’s zipped up to his chin. Arcus stares at the handles of the door, puts his hands on both of them, and…

_ As long as I don’t instantly die when I open these doors _ , Arcus tries to motivate himself,  _ then I’ll be fine.  _ His palms feel damp as they twist around the metal. He would’ve taken the Auris with him but if something were to happen to him, it could easily be lost to the void. He’d rather have it in here, safe, than potentially destroyed out there. He doesn't know what kind of danger there is-

“Oh, for the Gods’ sake.” Arcus mutters to himself, and flings the doors in a grand motion open wide enough so he could get a good look outside. He sees nothing but dark mist, endless and curling...but the limbs of the Entity don’t immediately shoot out to usher him back inside, no monster rushes forth with nefarious intentions, the ground doesn’t crack and splinter beneath his feet as he takes a single step outside, and then another.

For the first time since he was tossed in this prison with the key throw away, Arcus stands outside completely unprotected and without his Auris. It feels utterly frightening and liberating at the same time, and Arcus lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, and the pounding in his ears relents a small amount. He turns around to close the doors behind him, and the sounds of the door locks clicking together is all too real and startling that he’s actually  _ outside. _

Arcus takes a few more cautious steps forward, looking all around to make sure that nothing is sneaking up behind him or that he has strayed too far from his tower, but the freedom to walk around is intoxicating, to the say the least. Or perhaps it’s just the Fog filling up his lungs poisoning him, both bodily and mentally-

As his foot hits the ground in another step, a groaning sound is heard from all around him, but it’s not the sound that draws his attention: it’s the black mass forming in front of him, all Entity limbs and black mist surrounding something that is quickly emerging from it towards him. Taking a reactive step backwards, Arcus feels his heart begin to race as the legs and mist parts, leaving behind a large blue monster that he recognizes as the Oni, or Kazan Yamaoka.

The red mask of the monster turns to look at him, and Arcus stares back, unmoving as fear drenches his body like a cold bucket of water and leaves him trembling. The Oni turns to face him fully, and Arcus sees that he’s in full samurai gear with his wooden weapon in his hand, and he feels like he’s being judged, predator assessing its prey- but the Arcus hears the moaning whispers of the Entity, and the beast hears it to as it lifts its head up towards the sky.

“Oh, no.” Arcus says softly and smally, his voice squeaking like a rat’s in fear. He’s not ashamed to admit that his teeth and knees rattled in terror as the monster looked back down at him as the whispers slowly died away. Then the Oni lifted his weapon back and behind his shoulders.

“Oh,  _ no.”  _ Arcus said again, turning back to run for the doors of his towers as fast as his legs would carry him. He could hear the Oni’s roar, and the earth-shattering pounding of the beast’s feet gaining speed behind him.

“No, no, no, no,  _ no _ ,  _ no, no-!”  _ He reaches the door much faster than he left it, slowing down to a shuffling halt as his hands shake so bad he has trouble gripping the outside handles. As he feels the hot breath of the monster blasting onto his back, Arcus finally gets a good grip on the handles and throws the door open, launching himself inside and slamming the doors shut so loud he hears some loose books upstairs falling off the shelves.

He holds the doors shut against the beast charging directly towards them, and loses his footing as something loud and heavy beats against the ground right outside the door, and Arcus slides down the front of the door onto his knees before backpedaling as the monster bangs some more outside his door. The harsh breathing of the Oni blows inside the bottom of the door, ruffling Arcus’s clothes before...it stops. Footsteps begin a retreat outside his door before they fade away completely, leaving Arcus in silence except for the harsh sounds of his breathing and blood rushing in his veins.

It’s not until long minutes pass that his breathing slows to a less frantic speed, that his body finally stops shaking and the cold grip of fear begins to loosen in his chest. Arcus lets himself fall back on the floor and laughs at the sky, hands wiping away the sweat dripping down his face while covering his eyes. The stars dancing behind them slowly recede.

“I’m way too old to be doing this.” He should be thinking about retirement back on Terra Primus with his family, but no, those same people have cursed him to this horrible fate in this horrible place far, far away from his family, running for his  _ life…  _ but by all the Gods and Ancient Ones, Arcus is not going to be here forever in a small tower, hiding like a coward, like… he hates to say it, but like a  _ Survivor  _ who doesn’t know any better than to run away from the monsters of this place and cower in fear.

_ I would be a horrible Survivor, then, if I acted like I just did.  _ Arcus laughs harder until his belly hurts.


	20. Y.K.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Motorcycle wifeu go nyoom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i read yui's lore and yui is a certified stalker-abuser. stalkers, you know who this hoe is.

Several of her biker friends had warned her that tonight would be very dark, very misty and foggy, but Yui ignored their warnings. No, no little mist or fog would stop her from racing: nor did that stalker of hers. Many would call her impulsive and rash, that her illegal street races would catch up to her eventually- but Yui showed them wrong.  _ Knew  _ they were wrong, and kept proving it, over and over and over again.

Until the naysayers were right, for once. But just once was all that it took.

She was leading,  _ winning  _ the race on the streets of Tokyo, looking behind her constantly to see her opponents drift further and further backwards as she took every corner extra tight and came out low on the straightaways. But as she looked back one time, she saw the city streets give way to trees and dirt yet she wasn’t concerned. The racetrack was supposed to lead off the main streets as to not congest traffic, but not one had told her that it would be  _ this  _ wooded. There were bamboo shafts littering the side of the roads and Yui slowed down slightly to make sure she didn’t hit any on her hard turns.

The last of her opponents had fallen behind her to the point where their headlights of their bikes were no longer visible and her engine was the only one roaring on the road. Turning to face the front again, Yui was  _ shocked  _ by just how foggy and hard to see it was. Even the bright beams of her headlights could barely help her see just a few meters in front of her, and quickly worsened the farther she traveled. It got to the point where Yui was forced to slow her bike to a halt, deploying the kickstand and dismounting.

Lifting her goggles, Yui took the opportunity to look around and strained her ears to listen to the engine of her opponents. If she heard them coming, she would have to move out of the way just in case they didn’t stop like she did. Yui was driven to win, but she couldn’t win in these conditions, especially when she couldn’t see ten meters in front of her and this track had several dropoffs-

Something loud, much louder than a bike engine, came from behind her. It was repetitive, and Yui backed up a few paces as a large shape emerged from the fog. Her face went slack as a literal  _ monster  _ emerged, breathing fire as it’s white hair flowed unnaturally behind it, blue skin reflecting in the dim moonlight. It held a huge sword in its grasp, and it’s fiery breath ruffled his hair back. 

It was an  _ oni-  _ and ogre. 

It drew it’s weapon, pointed it towards her, and roared loud enough that the bamboo reeds shook in their roots. Before Yui could react, it charged at her and she barely dodged the swing it took at her  _ (she thanked all of her lucky stars for her fast reflexes) _ that surely would’ve killed her had it connected. As the sword hit the ground, the monster stumbled for a moment but that was all Yui needed to hop back on her bike, kick off the kickstand, and take off into the fog, regardless of the danger the fog provided in dampening her driving abilities.

But she didn’t get far as  _ something  _ black and unidentifiable shot out in front of her bike and threw her from it at such a high rate of speed that Yui thought she would break her neck when she finally hit the ground. Within a few seconds, Yui hit the ground shoulder-first, and rolled over and over in the dirt down a sloping hill that she thought would dump her off the side of a steep cliff so she frantically tried to grab onto things as she fumbled in the dark.

Yui managed to grab onto what felt like a tree root, and clung to it for dear life as she finally stopped falling and managed to catch her breath. For a moment, she thought she was safe, but the distant sound she heard before, what she now recognized as the  _ oni  _ stopping towards her, was coming closer. Getting to her feet, Yui felt herself over real quick and was surprised to discover that she had no major cuts and nothing that felt broken-

A tap on her shoulder made her gasp and turn around in shock. A new and unfamiliar face greeted hers, a woman with pale, white skin and red hair gave her a wide-eyed stare and look over, before holding a finger to her lips and motioned for her to follow her. Yui didn’t at first, moving her mouth open to ask  _ who are you? And why should I follow you?  _ until the sound of the stomping got close enough for the ground beneath her feet to vibrate.

Hoping the woman wasn’t leading her into a trap, Yui cautiously followed her inside a blue building... 


	21. D.K.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David beats up teenages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lil late bc i got a new mattress!

Canada sucked, but having yourself nearly disemboweled on the streets of Manchester sucked _way_ bloody more, so David took the lesser of the two evils.

He would’ve gone to America, but he needed to leave  _ very soon  _ and the States were taking way too long in getting him a passport, so Canadia was his next available choice. He… wasn’t too thrilled about going to Canada especially in January, but a couple of fights were picked with blokes who had more money and monkeys than they knew what to do with. Blokes who don't know when to admit they have been beaten.

So here he is. In a shitty hotel in a place called Mount Ormond because after some light math, David knew he can’t afford to live in a palace for a month or so until this blows over. A beer in his hand and the TV remote in the other, David sips on his beer while he ponders about what he wants for dinner. For once, he decides he wants to have something healthy from the markets and gets his wallet. He spotted this nice little shop on his first tour around the city, and he finds it quite quaint, like the little shops his mum used to take him to when he was a wee lad.

Unfortunately, trouble seems to follow him even when he’s not in Manchester. He accidently  _ (really, accidental!)  _ bumps into this punk-looking prim girl with a young man’s arm around her shoulder because his trolley’s got a fucked wheel and it gets away from him. He even apologized to them both for bumping into them, but the man absolutely went  _ rabid. _

“Look where you’re going, motherfucker!” The man yelled out- and it’s not the fact that the man simply yelled at him, it that this was a  _ family  _ store and there were children inside that peeved David off to respond. “Oi, watch your mouth! There children in ‘ere!”

The man took his arm from the girl and stomped over to where David was, and suddenly David couldn’t help but laugh: against the girl, the man had looked slightly intimidating, but now that he was standing on his own, he saw the man was a good three or four inches smaller than him and skinny, too. Twink-size. Small Dog Syndrome.  _ Massively  _ overcompensating.

The man had been looking like he was going to retort at David in a slightly softer voice at closer range, but when David laughed at him, it set the man off again. “What the fuck are you laughing at, fuckwad?!” He screeched out again, and David noticed with a smug that the girl wasn’t coming any closer or making any move to assist the man.  _ Some great girlfriend she is.  _ “I’m laughin’ at how small ye are. Yer like a little rabid squirrel-”

“Excuse me-” Some brave employee had approached the fray, earning a hard stare from the man and irritated looks from David and the woman. “-can you guys please leave? You’re upsetting other-”

“No, I’m not fucking leaving!” The man yelled, waving his arms at David, who just happened to look insulted. “This man assaulted my girlfriend!”

David blew a hard breath out of his nose and shook his head. “I accidently bumped into her with my cart and said sorry, but  _ this  _ bloke-” jabbing his thumb at the man “-completely went off his rocker.”

The man turned an interesting shade of red. “I’m  _ pissed  _ because you-”   
  


Then another employee, this time a more official-looking short woman with a manager tag on her shirt, boldly inserted herself inbetween the two men and put her hands up between them. “I don’t care who did what, but all three of you need to leave, or I will be calling the police. This behaviour in our store is unacceptable!” At the word  _ police _ , the man visibly deflated, and David got the sense that this man wasn’t too keen on running afoul of the law. Little punk probably got into trouble with the police of this shitty little town a lot.

“C’mon, Frank.” The girl finally spoke up, and grabbed Frank’s arm and led him towards the exit of the store. Oddly enough, the man who had looked fit to bite off his head suddenly looked a lot more... _ placated _ when the woman led him off. “We can solve this later.” She whispered in the man’s ear, and she briskly whisked them out of the store.

David chuckled to himself. That  _ Frank  _ bloke is pussy-whipped, if he had ever seen anything like that. Not that it was bad, because the girl was good-looking- but she was probably far too young for him. Plus she had to be stupid to be with a man like that.

Thinking that the situation was over, David exited the store and walked over to his quaint little truck that he bought when he realized that he couldn’t just  _ walk  _ everywhere like back in Manchester, and thanked his father for one thing: teaching him how to drive. The only good thing that good-for-nothing wanker ever did-

“Hey!” A voice called from behind him as he went to close the door to his truck after tossing his groceries inside, David immediately recognizing the voice as Frank’s. While his back was turned, he grabbed the small knife he had shoved in the pocket of the door and slipped it in his jacket before he shut it and turned around. He had a bad feeling about the man coming up behind him like this, and when David saw the entourage coming up behind him, suddenly he’s glad he grabbed the knife. He’d rather not use it...but he’ll use it if he thinks he’s getting overwhelmed.

It was Frank and his girlfriend again, but this time they were accompanied by a taller black male and another woman, the smallest of the bunch. She didn’t look older than 16, especially with the braces in her mouth. “What in the bloody hell do ya want?” David grumbled, but he felt the heat and  _ rush  _ of the knowledge that he was about to get in a fight make his toes tingle and suddenly he was being a lot more observant of his surroundings than he had been. There were a few people milling about in the parking lot, mostly overworked mothers with high energy children.

Frank, clearly in charge of the rag-tag team, spoke up. “I can’t be having you do my girlfriend wrong like that. You’re lucky that employee in there threatened to call the cops, or I would’ve-”

David barked out with laughter. “I could probably do your girlfriend better than you ever could, lad. Hell, probably did her better with the shopping cart than you could do with a strapon-”

Frank turned as red as a rocket, while his girlfriend had the audacity to blush and look shy, even though the glinter in her eyes told David she probably was thinking of eating him alive. “What did you say to me, cocksucker?” Voice lower, Frank took a very threatening step towards David, and David could see Frank’s fingers twitching. At this point, David’s hand curled around the knife in his own pocket because he would put all the money he had on the probability that Frank had a knife, too.

“Ya deaf, too?” But David didn’t really think getting into a fight would be good for his green card, so he didn’t advance Frank like he wanted to. “Look, you kids go make trouble somewhere else. I got more important things to-”

“ _ You  _ made the trouble here, and now you gotta pay for it.” By the time Frank had reached into the back pocket of his pants, David had his own knife out, smirking at Frank...until his other three friends pulled out their own knives. Then suddenly David realized the fight wasn’t particularly in his favor, number-wise. But no mither, he could take down four teens easily.

Frank looked slightly put off by the fact that David pulled out his own knife  _ (and that it was bigger than his) _ , but still advanced towards David and made his attention clear. “I think you don’t know who you pissed off, you British bastard.” Frank leered at him, but David’s eyes were fixed on the black guy, who looked around a lot before speaking up. 

“You owe us.” He said, startling Frank who was fully focused on David. “You need to  _ reimburse  _ us for your trouble.”

Frank turned to look at him with an incredulous look, like he would  _ dare  _ interrupt him stabbing a man. Whispering harshly, Frank kept his knife pointed at David. “Joey, what the fuck-”

“Frank, look how many people are out here!” Joey whispered, jerking his head and gesturing to the people walking around in the parking lot. Granted there weren’t a lot of people out and they were on the back half of the parking lot, but David knew if a fight broke out it would be easily noticed. “Let’s just get some money from him and bounce, man.”

Silent for a pregnant pause, Frank eventually slowly nodded and turned back to David, gesturing to his pockets with his knife. “Take out your wallet.”

David slowly smiled at Frank before laughing. “I ain’t giving you a bloody cent, lad.”

That seemed to piss Frank off a  _ lot _ . “Don’t be a smartass. Give us your wallet or I’ll fucking gut you like a fish and let you bleed out here.”

David spat on Frank’s jacket, much to the man’s disgust. “Come ‘ere and get me, then!” And Frank  _ did  _ come to David, lunging at him with a speed that surprised him, but the knife that had been aimed at his chest ended up embedded into the truck door and David took the opportunity to knee the man in the stomach hard, and Frank collapsed to the ground, knife clattering behind him.

For a moment, David thought that beating Frank up would be enough to deter the rest of his gang, but Joey and Frank’s girlfriend was on top of him in a second. The girl went for his short hair, yanking his head back while Joey delivered quite the blow to his face, making his teeth clatter in his skull, but he retaliated with a hard kick to Joey’s knee that sent him stumbling backwards. 

He wasn’t one to punch a woman, but he gave the woman a shove so hard she fell on top of Frank who was just getting up off the ground and knocked them both back down. David took a moment to stare at the two piled on the ground and nearly missed Joey charging at him with his knife out, aiming to stab him in his side. He grabbed the hand that had the knife inches away from his skin and scuffled with Joey for a moment before he pulled the arm with the knife hard and heard a pop. Joey cried out and fell to the ground, letting his knife clatter to the ground as his right arm laid limp.

“Susie, help us!” Joey cried out, reminding David that there was another person who had yet to attack him; the youngest, the girl with bubblegum pink hair and braces. She had her knife out as well, but looked too shy to come forward and attack David, choosing instead to take a defensive stance.  _ Smart lass.  _ Susie looked all around frantically and desperately, as if looking for an excuse to break up the fight and only went to pick up Joey when Frank growled and finally got to his feet.

David was ready for him this time- he had to give it to the man, he was pretty quick at running at people and trying to jump him, but it was also his downfall because he missed from his target of major organs or arteries. Frank’s knife managed to just barely clip David in the shoulder when he swung wildly at him, a small dark stain spreading across his tweed jacket, but he hardly felt it and it did nothing to deter him. As soon as Frank had finished pulling his knife back from where he had cut him, David lifted his leg and kicked Frank so hard in the cock and balls that he yelled out, falling to the ground and vomiting.

“Frank!” The girlfriend cried out, bending down for a moment to check on Frank before turning her attention back to David as she charged at him too, swiping broadly at him and pushing his backwards, but David easily pushed her back and she fell against the side of his truck, scraping the already worn paint off even further. She recovered quickly and went to lunge at him again, but Susie suddenly rushed forward and grabbed her and Frank, Joey standing on his own for the moment.

“The security guard is coming! We gotta go!” This got the whole gang’s attention, and Joey had to come over to help Frank to his feet, the man still whimpering and cupping his bruised family jewels.  _ If he even had any left _ , David thought with a smug grin.

“Wait!” The girlfriend looked like she still wanted to get one more good swipe at him, but Susie grabbed her arm. “No, Julie, we gotta go  _ now _ !” She dragged Julie away with her, just as the security guard had ran close enough to yell at the ground to stop what they were doing, but the little gang started taking off as fast as they could, dragging Frank who was yelling about how he was going to gut him, chop off his dick and bleed him dry like a dog.

The security guard got to David just as he was putting his own knife away and wiping his sweat-drenched face with his jacket, the security guard with a nametag of  _ Karl _ asking him if he was okay and if he needed medical attention, pointing to the bloodstain on his jacket.

“Oi, that’s no mither.” David waved his hand. “I’ve had far worse. I just wanna go back home with my eggs now.” And a good drink, too.

The security guard looked as if he was just going to let David go, but then reached out to stop Dvaid from getting in his truck. “Umm… do you want to file charges, sir?”

David snickered. “Nah, just a couple of hoodlums like that-”

“No, sir, umm…” The security guard looked around for a moment before leaning in and whispering. “...we’ve had problems with them before. Like, a lot of trouble, but we’ve never been able to catch them with any solid evidence. We would  _ really  _ appreciate it if you filed charges.” There was something in Karl’s eyes that made David pause and think twice. He didn’t speak at first, so the security guard carried on.

“They’ve- well, we think- they’ve been robbing and vandalising a lot of places. Several people were mugged at knifepoint. One of them got fired from this little store and-” The security guard broke off and whispered “-a few nights later, the store was broken into and a janitor in the store went missing. We haven’t found his body but there was blood everywhere. His blood. They’re sure he was murdered by the Legion- that’s what they call themselves.”

David balked. “Christ.” Maybe these kids were more than hoodlums- murder? That’s a whole different story.

“Yeah.” The guard nodded. “You could file charges for attempted murder- I heard him, everyone did, yelling about he was going to kill you and stuff, and send him to jail for at least a good five years. His little friends will probably get a few years, too. Please, sir-” 

“Okay.” David decided that the myth about people being so nice and shite from Canada was a big, fat lie and that he wanted to go back home to Manchester as soon as possible. But if it helped but away murderers, then he could wait a little bit. “Alright. Lemme get my groceries home and I’ll go to the police station.”

“I’ll escort you.” The guard said, which David started to disagree with but the guard insisted. “No, these guys  _ will  _ try their little stunts again if they see you again, but they avoid the cops like the plague.”

Well, shit, seems like he’s got his own entourage, then. David, shrugged, seeing no other option. Well, maybe this will help with his green card status.


	22. S.S.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesus takes the wheel and Sally isn't wearing a proper seatbelt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeet dabs

She will forever miss Andrew, but it’s been a long time since she’s thought about  _ how  _ much she missed him. It seems to slip her mind a lot these days...days...are these days anymore? Is she even alive anymore? She doesn’t know,  _ really  _ doesn’t know if she’s in heaven or hell or somewhere inbetween.

All that she knows is that she was in that ambulance after doing…  _ what she did _ , everyone around her trying to calm her and question her and poke needles into her, then suddenly the whispers she had been softly hearing for a whole overwhelmed her, telling her that everything would be alright,  _ she  _ would be alright and not to worry about things.

_ But,  _ she thought back,  _ I’ve done horrible things!  _ She had vivid memories of being on top of her patients, her hands wrapped around their necks but…  _ did she kill them?  _ Was she saving them? She doesn’t know, but the whispers told her to stay still when she started to thrash against her restraints.  _ Stay still, for what is about to come. _

Then the ambulance crashed horribly, everything slowing down then speeding up as the whole world crunched and spun wildly, then… it all stopped. The restraints were suddenly gone, and Sally found the strength to get up and force the doors of the ambulance open.  _ Start walking.  _ The whispers told her, and Sally did what it asked even though she felt… weird. She walked with a limp- in the back of her mind she felt blood dripping down her arms and legs, and she had probably broken a few bones.

The shock of everything had started to wear off, and Sally felt pain start to slowly creep in. It started as a throbbing in her leg, but it quickly evolved as a horrible, burning pain all over her body to the point where she stumbled in the dirt, fog curling all around and making her shover despite the fire racing across her skin.

_ Walk.  _ The whispers commanded gently, but Sally sobbed and cried out, voice raspy for some reason she didn’t know. “I can’t!” She exclaimed, using sheer willpower to hold herself up by her arms while swaying on her knees. “I can’t...walk!” Her vision started to blur as tears clouded her eyes, and the whispers urged her to walk once more. Sally gave it one more shot to walk, but she collapsed from her knees onto the dirt face-first, screaming in pain and agony.

She wanted to die with how much pain she was in. It was getting harder and harder to breathe and blackness was creeping into the sides of her view. Sally gasped, her breaths becoming shorter and shorter and something leaked out of her mouth. “H...help… help, pl-please.” She tried to crawl forward, but the wave of pain that shot through her made her give up, burying her face into the dirt. Dizziness overcame her when she tried to lift her head up to look around for something, anything to help her, but there was nothing except for the whispers that stopped telling her to walk, oddly enough.

The whispers were gone and her head was empty except the rush of blood filling her ears, but they came back after a few moments.  _ You are dying. Quickly.  _ It said, and Sally knew it to be true. She was dying, whatever happened in the ambulance would kill her, and she would bleed out on the dirt. But she was fine with that; she would get to see her beloved Andrew again, after all these long decades of being apart from him and suffering-

_ Death is not an escape.  _ Was the whisper in her head, then her body suddenly felt...light. She didn’t know how to describe it, but suddenly she was light and was able to stand. She couldn’t stand straight up, but she could stand without her feet on the ground and she couldn’t understand what was happening, but Sally found the strength to slide forward.

She was still terribly confused and didn’t know what was going on or really what she had done, but she cried because she couldn’t see Andrew yet and didn’t know when she would.


	23. A.V.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ace says gay uncle rights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so short but I've slept all day and I love he.

At first, pickings had been slim.  _ Real slim.  _ Fish in a barrel slim.

Ace’s natural reaction to  _ everything  _ was to smile, flirt and charm. From buying a poor kid in Argentina a piece of brad to helping an 80 year old woman across the street in Las Vegas, it was  _ instinctual  _ at this point. He couldn’t stop himself from doing it if he wanted to.

For a while, it had just been Dwight, Meg, Claudette, Jake, Nea, Laurie and him at the campfire, and choices for  _ entertainment  _ were not that many. Dwight and Claudette would nearly burst into tears if he winked at them- well, mostly Dwight, but Claudette would lose the ability to speak English for a while  _ (French was such a pleasing language to listen to) _ , Jake would give him a look at said  _ get away from me  _ and  _ up your game _ at the same time, Meg would laugh and call him a gross old man, Nea would always been looking for a way to get high and Laurie… women from the 70s were a totally different ball park.

But now he has plenty of options, and Dwight still has to fight back sniffles when Ace gives him a flashy smile and a genuine compliment, and Ace considers himself lucky that he wasn’t a good ten years younger or else he might have fallen for the cutie. It’s been a while since he’s seen a man as baby-faced and clueless as one Dwight Fairfield. If he had to choose just one, though? It would have to be Jane Romero. Hot Latin blood in her just like him, beautiful and extra weight on her that Ace would love to grab a hold of...in a non-creepy way, of course. But damn, if Jane asked him to literally eat out of her finely manicured hand, he probably would.

And Lady Luck must be shining down on him because Jane flirts with him back, albeit not as much as he does, but she certainly knows how to smile and give him uplifting words that makes him feel like he’s truly in the prime of his life. All of the other Survivors moan about them being gross old people, but Jane tells them to shush and that they’ll be old one day, too. Nea says she’ll throw her off a cliff before she gets that old. Jake jokes that she’ll be long dead from huffing spray paint cans. Jake nearly died by being bludgeoned with a spray paint can that day.

He flirts with the other women _ (and men, too) _ , but his go-to for flirting is Jane. She’s even good at making  _ him  _ feel better despite the smile he puts forth that would say he’s having a grand old time, and that’s why Ace really likes her. It’s like he’s not even wearing sunglasses because she could  _ si  _ right through him-

A metal thermos hits him in his shoulder, and Ace acts like it’s a deathblow. It’s Meg’s thermos that now lays between his knees on the ground, and it’s also Meg who comes over to punch him in the shoulder with the demand that he stops making puns or else she’ll  _ really  _ beat him with her thermos.

Ace, of course, doesn’t listen, and he finds out that despite being on the greyer side of the age spectrum, he can still run pretty fast from a trackstar.


	24. H.C.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herman loves lollipops. He also has a leg warmer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is implying hermanxdwight i blame the discord server.

The one thing he misses the most about his past life was lollipops. The Entity could never seem to replicate them and their flavors perfectly, and many of the fake treats that were presented to him tasted more like stale bread with a hint of sweet butter if anything. But he has an  _ addiction _ , so to speak, of lollipops, which he discovered led to a compulsion to have things in his mouth to chew or suck on while he worked. He would try and quell these urges, but he found that he couldn’t work very well while fighting the urges.

Even though he knows it’s going to taste unpleasant, Herman unwraps the wrapper on one off and wads it, throws it in the waste bin and pops the sweet in his mouth.

Ah yes, this one  _ vaguely  _ tasted like apple, his favorite flavor. Only vaguely, but Herman hummed and decided that the Entity got something close enough for once. Despite being all powerful, the Entity seemingly can’t replicate even the simplest things with extreme details, for example, a penny-

From where his legs are tucked underneath his desk, something tickles his knee. Twitching, Herman doesn’t have to peak down to see what’s bothering him. “If you want a  _ reward,  _ Mr. Fairfield-” He begins, willing his heart to beat just slightly faster to summon a brief and light pulse of energy racing through his legs. “-you have to stay still and not bother me.”

“Sorry!” The man squeaks out from under his desk, shuffles once more but remains still, and Herman hums once again and goes back to his work. He found- or rather,  _ discovered-  _ Dwight hiding under his desk the last few times he had come into his office to sit down, and for some reason Dwight keeps hiding under there now just because he didn’t kill him the first time. Herman told himself that it was because Dwight was a great leg warmer against the open ceilings of Lery’s.

And if Dwight  _ behaved _ , he would be allowed to pick out a lollipop. Not apple, though, only  _ he  _ gets apple- unless of course he put one in his mouth and it tasted like cardboard,  _ then  _ Mr. Fairfield could have it. Speaking of which, he only just realized now that he had been staring at the papers in front of him blankly while he thought about Dwight being a great leg warmer. Seems as if Dwight was becoming rather a distaction.

Herman sighed and rolled backwards, deeming Dwight to be more detrimental to his work than helpful at this point. He puts a hand on his desk before he bends forward. “Come on out, Mister Fairfield.” Dwight crawls out on his hands and knees from the dark cubby underneath his desk with big, wide brown eyes and an expectant look on his face. If his fingers weren’t immediately popped into his mouth, Herman figures the man would be drooling for a lollipop by now.

It comforted him some to know that someone else has such a hyperfixation with having things in their mouths, particularly lollipops. With a wave of his hand, Dwight is instantly into his bowl of lollipops, digging through them with wet fingers to find one to his pleasing. Herman, gear off his face, pulls a grimace at the thought, but then again he’s sure his fingers were wet when he puts lollipops in his mouth all day.

Finally, Dwight picks out one that appears to be grape flavor, eagerly peels off the wrapping and pops it into his mouth. For once, the man’s face doesn’t contort with a bitter taste. He sucks on it for a few moments before pulling the sucker out of his mouth and declaring. “It actually tastes grape-ish.”

“Hmmm, how so?” Herman asks, never having gotten an actual grape flavored one himself. He’s very interested to know how it tasted.

“It tastes like…” Dwight licks the lollipop before putting it back into his mouth. “...a jelly sandwich. But  _ almost  _ without the bread. It tastes like grape jelly, if I had to label it.” Herman watches with bright eyes Dwight suck on the lollipop, watches his tongue move around it in his mouth as Dwight makes a pleased noise… then clears his throat.

Dwight blinks at him, then takes the lollipop out of his mouth and  _ holds it out to him.  _ “Want a taste?”

  
Herman was the one who blinked now. “No. Now, shoo. I have work to do.” Dwight popped it back in his mouth and scurried down the hall, ignoring the way Herman shouted after him not to run with a sucker in his mouth lest he get choked  _ again  _ and Herman has to perform CPR. He is  _ absolutely  _ never doing that again.


	25. F.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamer girl Feng Min and her barely legal gaming boyfriend, JAKE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why not lol

“Jake, are you loaded in yet?”

“...”

“Jake-”

“I forgot where the controller is.”

“Jake, this is Minecraft, you don't need to use a controller!” Feng yelled into her microphone, having told Jake for the  _ fifth  _ time before her stream started that  _ you don’t need to use a controller on PC Minecraft!  _

She heard shuffling coming from the other end. “Look, you know I’m better with controller than mouse and keyboard-”

Feng Min rolled her eyes. “That’s implying that you are  _ good  _ at video games-”

“Shut up!” Jake laughed once on the other end, and she heard something drop to the floor. “Oh, shit-”

“Jake-”

“Found it!”

“I’m telling you, Jake, you don’t need it- sliochjeans, thank you for the Prime, welcome to our chat.” There weren’t as many people watching or in chat today since she wasn’t playing Overwatch or Fortnite, but she was alright with that for today. It was nice to take a chill day with her boyfriend to force him to play video games with her, despite the fact he was still a recluse and barely went online except to watch cute animal videos.

She will make him a  _ true gamer, _ even if she has to hold him hostage. “Eggychann, thank you for the $5 donation-”when are you two going to move in together?” I am slowly dragging him closer and closer to the city, so hopefully soon we’ll decide on a place.”

“Do I accept the invite thingy now or-”

“Yeah, go ahead.” Chat was  _ already  _ demanding that Jake take off his shirt or something akin to that. “And no, Jake will  _ not  _ be taking off his shirt today.”

“Are they  _ still  _ on about that?” She could see through the video call Jake shaking his head. That infamous moment occurred after Jake had spilt hot coffee on his shirt and had to take it off real quick- chat had gone absolutely  _ wild  _ and had always mass demanded Jake take off his shirt at some point when he would be on stream.

“Chat never forgets.” The loading screen for Minecraft reached 100%, and it dropped her flat in the middle of a desert.  _ Noice.  _ “Also to those of you who don’t follow my Twitter for updates- this Minecraft stream is sponsored by, uh, Diamond Dogs, and every diamond we find is a 100$ donation up to 100 diamonds. The conditon is that this is on hardcore mode, but as long as one of us is alive we can keep getting diamonds. ”

“10,000$ for dogs, that’s the only reason why I’m playing Minecraft again.”

Feng made a fake shocked look directly into the camera. “You played video games before?” And was answered with an eye roll from Jake. “Yes, I’ve played Minecraft before.”

“When?” Feng questioned, already looking around in game for the nearest tree to get wood from.

Jake didn’t answer for a moment. “...2013? Unless the time like two months ago when I watched you play for a little bit counts.”

“2013, Jake? Are you really that much of a hobo? Also DyabloRosa, thanks for the 100 bits- “perfect boyfriend material where did you find him?” Out in the woods.” Feng paused to put her pink bunny-eared hood on her head that she had forgotten to put on until just now. “I am serious. I found him out in the woods like a filthy hobo that he is.”

“I take a bath everyday- hey, I loaded in, where are you?”  _ Shit,  _ she forgot that she was going to have to virtually hold his hand until he figured out how to play. Feng turned around after finding no trees within her render distance and immediately headed back the way she came. “Don’t move, I’m coming back.”

Jake looked around. “Where did you even  _ go  _ that quick?”

“I went to look for trees. Highspirits, thank you for 13 months! Means a lot to me. “Tits out stream when?” Never. Shut the fuck up.”

Feng heard Jake giggle in the background. “Why do people keep asking for your tits? You don’t really have any.”

Feng stopped her character’s movement on stream, giving Jake a look through the camera. “Did you just say that on my stream? Did you-”

She could hear Jake’s soft laughter growing in the background. “Min, I’m sorry-”

“Did you really just fucking- oh my God, I can’t believe you called me out like this.” Feng shook her head and hit the W key while reading chat. One message made her laugh out loud. “”Take him back out in the woods and leave him there”- thank you, MissRedd, I’m gonna do that right after stream.”

“No!” Jake protested as he chuckled. “You can’t do that! That’s… child abandonment, I don’t-”

Feng snorted, smiling broadly and looking at Jake through the video call to see his head in his hands. “Child abandonment! Jake, you  _ are  _ a child, you right.”

“I didn’t mean to say that! I meant to say “emotional abandonment” but- oh hey, I see you!” 

Feng took her eyes off chat for a moment and saw Jake’s character walking towards her. Walking. “Sprint is shift, Jake.”

“Oh.” And to her personal happiness, Jake’s character started running towards her and met her halfway across the desert. Once she was in front of him, she crouched. “ _ Hewwo _ .”

“ _ Hewwo- _ control is the crouch key right?-” Jake asked redundantly as he pushed the control key on his keyboard and crouched as Feng was doing. “Jump is space.” She reminded him, and then kept running behind Jake on her search for trees. Jake hummed in agreement, and quickly followed behind her.

“Ffleitax, thank you for the 50 bitties. Luxsvaliente, thank you for the follow and sub- no guys, I’m sorry but Jake is  _ not  _ taking his shirt off.”

“Chat still asking for it?” Jake asked, and Feng couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t think it ever stops.”

“Well, tell me if they do.”

“Why can't you look at yourself?”

“Uh, I’m choosing not to look at chat for my own mental safety.”

Feng Min opened her mouth to say something sassy, but then shrugged her shoulders and decided otherwise. “Eh, that’s probably a good decision, actually.” She giggled, looking back at chat. “If they knew you read chat they would probably non-stop ask you to wear one of those open window sweaters.

“So, like a slut in wintertime?”

“Yes, exactly- puwexil, thank you for the 350 bits, welcome back in! Finally, some trees. Jake, start-”

The sound of her boyfriend gasping loudly stopped Feng Min in her tracks. “A dog!” Jake exclaimed, and Feng had an instantaneous thought that Jake was going to try and tame every single dog he sees. And cats, too. “Jake, do not-”

“They didn’t have this last time- hi, buddy, what are you doing?” The dog turned around to look at Jake’s character, barked once and then turned back around and walked away. Jake, despite Feng’s vocal protests, followed after the dog and demanded to know how to tame it.

She looked back at chat. They were on his side. Jake should be lucky that she loved him this much to let him tame fifty dogs while she mined for diamonds. That’s how gaming relationships worked, she guessed.


	26. K.C.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenneth likes fingies in his mouth. I also like my OC being randomly inserted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm running out of brain juice but it's almost the end of April, so I put my OC in here bc thats the only thing I can think of monkaS

It was rare that Kenneth had more than a few fingers to himself at one time before the Entity snatched them away like a children’s toy, so Kenneth found himself… indulging in them more than usual. At the moment, he had delicious little Kate Denson’s pinky finger in his grap, bloody nub attached to his large hoop ring while he rang his own fingers over it.

Kate, to him, was by far the most gorgeous and beautiful piece of prey the Entity had presented to him. Her fingers were always smooth and clean, despite how much she would claw at him or the dirt to get away from him. Although, that little redhead Megan was a close second with her slim, athletic fingers that always tasted like sweat and adrenaline. It always gave him a good rush when he teased the finger between his lips, licking at the smooth nail before pushing-

“Uh, hello?” A voice interrupted his musings, and the Clown quickly got to his feet with his knife in his hand before he realized who it was.

“Shadow? Is that you?” He was pretty sure it was indeed her, but always wanted to make sure. You never know what kind of tricks other killers will play on you…

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you decent? Adiris ain't in there?” The Shadow’s voice, slightly creaky as it was, held a tone of amusement to it at the mention of Adiris’s name that made the Clown laugh out loud. “Nah, she ain’t here.” He doubted Shadow would even announce herself if she  _ really  _ though Adiris was in here, the little paranoid germaphobe. “Come on in!” Kenneth brought another chair out for Shadow to sit in once she appeared around the corner of the doorway of his caravan, if she wanted to have a seat.

He was surprised to see that she wasn’t dressed in her odd clothing as usual, instead sporting a loose light blue and white striped shirt and dark blue sweatpants paired with light gray slip on shoes. She looked more ready to go to sleep than to visit with him- unless she had planned on sleeping here?

Kenneth put his butterfly knife back down on the table and sat back down as the Shadow looked around his place. “Lookin’ for a place to sleep, Shadow?”

Shadow huffed, a half-laugh and half-snort. “No. Sorry, but you’re too gross and stinky to sleep anywhere nears.” Shadow kept looking around. “Hey, uh, can I ask you for a quick favor?”

_ Oh, so she wanted something?  _ “You can pet Maurice, he’s-” 

But the Shadow shook her head, short hair bouncing off the slim sides of her face. “Already petted him. I mean, I’d pet him anytime, but that’s not what I want.”

Leaning back in his chair, Kenneth put his hands on his thighs and he gave her a curious look. “Then what do ya need, then?” He watched the Shadow purse her lips and squint her eyes in concentration before waving her hand in the air.

“I want some of your Afterpiece Tonic. The strongest you got.” Well, he wasn’t really expecting  _ that _ , but going off by the look in the Shadow’s eyes, she had a  _ purpose  _ for asking for it.

The Clown laughed, standing up out of his chair and tucked his thumbs into the bands of his overalls. ”Why do ya need some? You can’t use it in a trial.”

“I have…” the Shadow briefly stopped talking before she crossed her arms over her chest. “...reasons.”

“Reasons or-” The Clown leaned down a small amount to speak more on her level. “- _ reasons?”  _ Kenneth did air quotes with his thumbs still tucked behind the straps, and smiled grimly when the Shadow copied his motions.

_ “Reasons.”  _ And despite herself the Shadow felt her lips spread into a wide smile, too. “I wanna gas some bitches, so I wanted some of your stuff so they choke on it while I beat their ass.” Kenneth loudly chuckled at her statement, and moved aside to go for his tonic bottles that he kept on the top shelves.

“May I be askin’ just  _ who  _ got on your bad side?” It wasn’t like the Shadow to just randomly go around and do this kind of stuff to people, so  _ someone  _ had clearly pissed her off to the point where she would do this… to be fair, the Shadow was insulted easily,  _ but still- _

“The Legion. Not just one-” The Shadow quickly interjected, holding up a slim finger.  _ Oh, how he would love to lick that finger,  _ but she would probably stab him in the ass if he did, so Kenneth wisely refused the urge to. “-all of ‘em this time. Usually it’s just Frank, but I saw them all this time spray painting shit everywhere all over the side of my house. I watched Frank piss in my fucking Blight plants and he was laughin’ like the fucking deranged rat bastard that he is. I’m gonna get them- especially Frank. I’ve had it with his shit.” The Shadow, Kenneth could visibly confirm, was  _ shaking  _ with rage at the end of her little tirade, and it made Kenneth feel for her. Last time the Legion paid him a visit, they painted dicks all over his caravan and fed Maurice beer.

Maurice farted something  _ ungodly  _ for the next few days. But he made sure that they would think  _ twice  _ before coming back and doing that shit to him again. “Hmmmm…” Thinking out loud, Kenneth turned away from the shelf in favor of going for a trunk in the bottom corner of his caravan, tucked away under a bottom shelf. Pulling it out with a massive grunt, Kenneth carefully undid the locks on it and revealed a four-by-four stock of tonic bottles, filled with the familiar pink liquid.

“Oh, cool!” Shadow exclaimed, her eyes lighting up at the sight. “Are these, like, your secret stash or something…?”

“In a way. This here, dearie-” Kenneth picked a bottle out at random and held it up for Shadow to easily read. “-is ether 28% volume. This is a special mix that the Entity doesn’t let me use.”

The Shadow pursed a side of her lips, gently wrapping her delicate fingers around the bottleneck to bring it closer to read. Kenneth had long thought that she had the fingers of a Queen, or at least royalty. “Yeah, I see what your 15% does to Survivors- really fucks them up. Probably need a higher volume then for Killers because, well,  _ we’re Killers,  _ right?”

“Hahaha, smart girl!” He ruffled the Shadow’s already fuzzy head, much to her displeasure and shoo’ing of his hand away from her person. “A good toss of this to even my noggin would probably send me packing for a good while. You toss one of these at that little shit’s head and probably knock him out until Ormond thaws.”

“Boy, wouldn’t that be a treat.” Shadow commented, and gave the bottle back to the Clown with a devious smirk on her face, big emerald eyes wide with excitement. “Can I have all of them?”

“All o’ ‘em?” It’s not that he wouldn’t enjoy watching Shadow gas those little punks, but it is  _ not  _ easy to make these tonics… he thinks about it for a moment, one hand under his massive chin, and then points a finger at the open trunk. “How ‘bout we go  _ together  _ to teach them a lesson, and in return you can use as many as you like? I’ll even let ya beat them up first, just as so long as you leave a finger apiece for me, huh?” He watched the Shadow stick out her tongue and make a noise in disgust, but jerked-shrugged her shoulders at the same time.

“That’s fine. Just… please control yourself ‘til I’m done beatin’ ‘em up. Then you can be as gross as you want to be. Lick-suck their fingers, shove ‘em up your ass, I don’t know, man. You wanna go now, or…?”

Kenneth laughed, taking a swig of a bottle of gin he kept on the table before corking it and picking up his knife, tucking it into the band of his pants. Bending down to lock the truck back up, he hefted it up onto his shoulder with a loud groan and held his other hand out, gesturing towards the door.

“Lead the way, missy. To Ormond we go.”


	27. Demo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's just a dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've skipped a couple of days I know but I've been tired and busy. Have a good boy.

Human flesh was delicious. It gave him life and sustenance and meaning; meaning to chase and hunt them down and consume every edible piece of them. It was instinct to him to do so.

But now, his instincts were betraying him-

“Who’s a good boy! Who’s a good boy!”

-as these humans were  _ petting  _ him. Petting him, as if he was something to be petted!-

“Look at him! He’s so cute!”

-he could so easily tear these humans apart, limb from limb, muscle from bones, blood from veins, but he doesn’t. He… he doesn’t know why, but-

“Would you like a treat?! Would you like a treat, you good boy?”

A treat? Was it- A candy bar was tossed towards his mouth, and he swallowed it whole-  _ it was very tasty. _

He allowed the humans to pet him more, and he got a few more of those treats. He will allow himself to be petted… until they run out of treats.


	28. R.Y.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rin chills with grandpa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ill do the final day tomorrow even tho its late ajsdojasdas
> 
> dont worry tho gryff is simpin', too

Hanging out with Kazan was cool, to say the least.

Kazan, she decided, while still very old fashion and very outdated, was the most positive male figure and role model she had ever had. Granted, the one thing her father did right was to make her train so she could fight- even though she never expected that it would be used against that very man- but even before her father went off the deep end, he was not the...best father ever.

Kazan, however, was by far the best mentor and instructor she ever had in terms of...pretty much everything. His one downside is his volume. Apparently when he was born, the volume dial was set to max and then taken off. The doorframe of the estate rattles with his frame nearly bursting the wood. “RIN.” He’s not angry at her, but his loud voice reverberates in her brain. “HOW DID THE HUNT GO?”

“It went...fine.” Another few glass shards in her shoulder to add to her collection was her definition of  _ fine,  _ but at least she managed to kill them all. “I am just…” Her body spasmed around the glass shards painfully, but the pain wasn’t too intense. She was honestly more  _ cold  _ than anything else. “...tired. They had many glass shards.”

Kazan made a pleased noise, and wiggled his massive body through the frame while Rin smiled at the humorous sight. They should really expand the doorway just for him. Kazan put his katana and stick down to lean up against the crumbling walls of the estate and sat beside her, his fingers instantly wrapping around one of her new bodily additions. “DID YOU KILL THEM ALL?” He asked as he pulled one free, inspecting it for a moment before tossing it aside. Rin made a noise of discomfort as he did so, but the relief she felt in the now empty slot in her skin was well worth it.

“Yes.” Another shard clattered against the ground as Kazan kept removing them. “I even took the last one by my own hand.”

“GOOD!” Kazan was louder this time, praise evident in his voice and even though Rin was not a warrior like he was, she felt proud of her accomplishments. She worked hard for it. Another shard hit the ground that came out painfully, and Rin contorted violently as it scraped bone on its way out. Kazan didn’t pull another one out until Rin had calmed down.

“YOU ARE STRONG.” Kazan complimented her, cleaning away some of the blood that poured out of her biggest wound before pulling out more glass. “MOST WOMEN- AND MEN-” He added as an afterthought. “-WOULD FAINT FROM SUCH PAIN.”

The Spirit laughed, a few tears leaking down from her eyes. “I almost did.”

“BUT YOU DIDN’T.” It was the closest thing that Kazan could’ve said to the word  _ “congratulations”.  _ “AND NOW THE SPIDER GOD IS PLEASED.”

“For now.” Rin didn’t like serving the spider God. At first she did- it had promised that she would get revenge on her father for killer her mother and almost killing her, but when her father never was brought to her to kill, she had realized that she oath of vengeance she made was taken advantage of by the spider God and twisted for its own purpose. It was almost enough to make her stop serving it, but… it was the God's magic keeping her alive, and without it, she would surely die.

It came down to death, or serving. She chose the latter. And now it worried her that she would  _ delight  _ in killing others. She wasn’t a killer! Before, she had been horrified at the thought of hurting others, but now it was her sole purpose. Did this make her evil?

“Grandfather?” He was more of her great-great-great-great grandfather, but Grandfather was easier on the tongue, and more natural. She got a hum in response. “Do you enjoy… killing people?” She asked hesitantly, curiosity burning at whatever was left of her core when she thought about murderous tendencies being passed down in her family.

Kazan stopped pulling shards for a moment, his hands hovering over the glass embedded in her shoulder. He didn’t speak for a few moments until Rin was ready to ask him if he had heard her. “I DO NOT KILL FOR AMUSEMENT.” He stated, and another glass shard joined the others in a growing pile.

“But do you  _ enjoy  _ killing people?” Usually people would scold her for being so bold- her father had hit her and her mother a few times for such a thing, but she and Kazan were different. Rin was drivenly curious and Kazan valued her boldness. Her courage to ask questions. Her desire to  _ know.  _ But Kazan took more time before he answered her.

“I DO NOT KILL PEOPLE BECAUSE IT BRING ME JOY.” Kazan restarted, slower this time. “I KILL BECAUSE THE SPIDER GOD WISHES ME TO-”

Rin shakes her head quickly. “So do I, but I mean  _ before _ , before when you were Kazan Yamaoka, not the Oni. Did you enjoy killing?”

“I KILLED THOSE WHO INSULTED ME. THOSE WHO WERE FALSE SAMURAI, THOSE WHO DARED CALLED ME ONI-YAMAOKA… I DID NOT KILL RANDOMLY AS OTHER DISHONORABLE WARRIORS DO HERE. WHY DO YOU ASK?”

Sighing, Rin, wiped away the trail of tears dried upon her face. “I never wanted to kill!” She exclaims as frustration causes the pain in her shoulder to flare up, burning as strong as her emotions. “I just wanted to go to school! I wanted to go to school so I could have my own business, so I didn’t have to work for a factory like my father did! But no, he took that all away from me! He took EVERYTHING!” Rage overwhelmed her for a moment, and she ripped a large shard from her stomach and threw it so hard that it went right through the wall and landed in the dirt somewhere outside.

“RIN.” Surprisingly, Kazan did not sound angry at her for putting yet another hole in the wall, but she guessed at this point there were so many holes in the wall already that it didn’t matter. She inhaled deeply to regain control of herself and looked at her grandfather. “WHAT YOUR FATHER DID WAS DISHONORABLE- WHAT NO FATHER SHOULD EVER DO TO HIS FAMILY. YOU ACTED ACCORDINGLY. THERE IS NO SHAME IN WHAT YOU DID. YOU SHOULD BE PROUD-  _ I _ AM PROUD.”

Rin, while she wasn’t looking, suddenly had her hand held by her grandfather- the hand that had the shard of glass sticking all the way through it. Turning back around, she was pleasantly surprised to see that Kazan was doing an amazing job or keeping himself under control. Usually when they talked about what her father did it sent Kazan in a rage that one of his descendants  _ dared  _ to do such a terrible, horrible thing; to their own kin, nonetheless.

“PERHAPS THE SPIDER GOD WILL HEAL YOU AND SET YOU FREE. SET US FREE. THEN YOU CAN GO BACK AND… WHAT SHOP DID YOU WISH TO OPEN, AGAIN?”

Rage abetting for now, Rin let a smile grace her relaxed features. “A...electronics shop. You remember what I told you about TV’s, right?” Kazan nodded; Rin had told him about the little magic boxes with people and sound inside of them and how they worked, even if he didn’t understand it completely. “I wanted to sell those to people. And other things, too. Like games, dishwashers, cameras, phones-” Kazan made a disgruntled noise, and Rin couldn’t help but laugh. She knew why he was so off put by the word “camera”- that Ghostfaced man kept taking pictures of him.

She may feel bad about killing those survivors, but not about killing fellow killers who got on her nerves.


	29. The Entity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Entity crack birthday party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hah fools i did it!
> 
> also this is crack. i laughed way too much at it. i was originally gonna do like the entity showing off his realm like a house tour on HGTV but the birthday thing came to mind !spoilers! and i was Weak.
> 
> also ily gryff

This...may have been a very bad idea. The Entity didn’t even know who’s idea this was anymore. Who in the hell convinced them to have this sort of thing- better yet,  _ why did they agree to it!? _

“Ah, Entity! I hope I’m not late!”

They blame Shadow for everything that’s happening and will happen- and the little conniver is  _ mysteriously missing- _

Sighing in resignation, the Entity turned around to begrudgingly greet it’s new company. “No- wait, what is that?” The Entity pointed one of it’s massive, never-ending legs at the nametag on the human woman in front of him, and if it wasn’t for the horrible, grating, most unpleasant sound of her voice, he wouldn’t have recognized her at all.

“It’s a name tag!” The name tag reading “Karen”, the Goddess in the form of some random human woman named Karen pointed to it with way too much happiness in her voice and gesture. “The invitation told us to wear one and be in human forms because of, well…” Karen leaned in closer and the Entity fought back the urge to unleash its Blight early this year. “... _ sensitive guests.”  _

“Sensitive guests?” The Entity echoed, and if it had been in a human form itself, its eyebrows would have certainly been raised. What the fuck do they mean,  _ sensitive guests?  _ What the  _ fuck  _ has Shadow done-?

“Where are the balloons, Entity?” Karen asked, looking around and holding a hand over her large stomach that the Entity only noticed just now.  _ Is she pregnant again? AGAIN!? WHO THE FUCK KNOCKED HER UP AGAIN AFTER LAST TIME- _

“Balloons? Those little circle things the humans fill up with air?” A very generic looking human male with the nametag of “Peter” came up behind Karen, and the Entity actually had to fight back the rising Blight in it’s… throat when Peter kissed Karen on the lips. Peter looked around as well. “I thought they were supposed to float.”

“There isn’t any!” Karen was one step away from being thrown onto a random dark world because the Entity was quickly losing patience with her voice. “No balloons, no cake, no presents- this doesn’t even look like a birthday party!”   
  


_ I’m going to kill Shadow. I’m going to destroy her and her homeworld.  _ **_Both_ ** _ of them- _

“Oh, it’s your birthday?” Peter asked. “Happy birthday, Entity! How old are you now? I remember back when you were just a little clump of legs all those millions of years ago-”

“I...I don’t know how old I am, okay!” Peter kept trying to pet his legs even as he swatted his hands away. Karen looked shocked.

“You don’t know how old you are?! Then why invite us to your birthday party?”

“I didn’t! Shadow did!” At the two’s looks of confusion, the Entity realized that they had no idea who Shadow was, and now he owed them an explanation. “Shadow is a...person I have here who helps me manage the realm.”

“A person? Awww!” Karen was suddenly caressing a bundle of his legs, which the Entity visibly retracted from. “You know, that’s how a lot of demigods are born-”

The Entity was going to shut her down before her fantasies and romantic adventures got the better of her, but a new presence drew all of their attention towards the...vastness of space. Another generic but different looking man came out, name tag proudly proclaiming his name was “Todd”.

If it had money, the Entity would bet everything he had that Shadow picked out of their names, too. “Hi, Todd!” Karen called out with a sick little wave, which was mimicked by Peter. “Glad you could make it- just the God we need to spice up this dull birthday party!”

“Birthday party? Who’s birthday party is it- or maybe… it’s a baby shower?” Todd came up to rub Karen’s belly a bit...suggestively, and Peter didn’t seem to take it that well. The last time Todd and Peter had a fight, well… let’s just say it put a damper on the Entity’s snacking for a couple of millennials. Karen giggled and the Entity had to turn around as he hiccuped and had to spit out some Blight. “Not today! But that is a fabulous idea! I’ll invite you personally, Entity-”

**_“NO!”_ ** The Entity cried out, shutting down the idea instantly. “I’m not going to your fucking  _ guppy  _ shower, Karen! What- which baby number is this? 637?!”

Karen smiled, showing off way too white teeth. “642! Oh, don’t tell me you don’t want a new family member!”

The Entity was  _ seething.  _ “I. Do. Not.” 

Karen titered. “Oh, yes you do! Don’t think that I don’t know that you enjoy being the only grandson-nephew I have!”

“I don’t want to be RELATED TO YOU!”

“Entity, do not talk to your grandmother-aunt like that!” Peter scolded him, and if the Entity had a mouth it would be hanging open in his  _ audacity  _ to say that to him. “Now, I’ll admit that 642 kids is a lot, but we  _ always  _ welcome new family members. Think about when you and this Shadow person have kids-”   
  
“I’M NOT THINKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE IT’LL  **_NEVER! FUCKING! HAPPEN!_ ** YOU’RE ALL FUCKING NUTS- THIS IS WHY I LEFT!” 

“Entity-” Todd started to say, but the Entity had had  _ enough  _ and was on the verge of having a cosmic breakdown. 

“YOU GUYS ARE ALWAYS TELLING ME TO ACT LIKE THIS AND BEHAVE LIKE THAT, AND YOU’RE DOING THIS WRONG- WELL,  _ YEAH _ ,  _ OKAY _ , I USUALLY CAN’T RECREATE STUFF RIGHT AND I FUCK IT UP, BUT I’M DOING GREAT! YOU GUYS AREN’T EVEN  _ WORSHIPPED  _ ANYMORE-”

“Entity!” Karen shrieked, pointing to the right. “ _ Sensitive guests!” _ Everybody looked to the right, and there stood the form of a man with a blue, hovering object in his man, staring at them all with his mouth parted like he had just stumbled into the wrong family reunion.

“Uhh…” He voiced quite eloquently, and then pointed with his free hand behind him. “I can leave, if you-”

“Nonsense!” Karen waddled over to the man, slinging her arm around his shoulder and pressing her  _ very  _ oversized breasts and tummy against his side. “You’re… Arbor, right?”

The Entity didn’t often feel sympathy, but the man deserved  _ all  _ of his sympathy right now. At least he wasn’t hitting on her. “Arcus, ma’am. I-” 

“Well, Arbor, welcome to the Entity’s birthday party!”

“Yes, I, um…” Arcus looked around, a bit dazed, as he pulled a letter out of his back pants pocket, which he had to maneuver Karen’s large boobs to get to. “I got the...invitation. Is this really-”

“It sure is!” Todd answered for Arcus, and pulled Karen away from Arcus with an evil glint in his eyes, aimed directly at the man. Good thing Todd was in human form, or else Arcus would be a puddle of mudd right now.

The Entity tried once again to set the record straight. “It is  _ not  _ my birthday. Or, maybe it is, but th-this is  _ not  _ my birthday party.”

“Then who-” Arcus held up his letter, and the Entity stabbed right through it with one of its legs, scaring Arcus nearly to death.

“Someone who I am going to  _ make suffer  _ when she gets back-”   
  
“Oh, so Shadow is a “she”, huh?” Peter waggled his eyebrows, and the Entity finally decided that he’s not up for this. There is no way he can get through this-

“Well, if this  _ isn’t  _ your birthday party-  _ which is it!”  _ Karen loudly announced before whispering the last statement to everyone like it was an omniversal secret. “Then it can be repurposed as my baby shower!”

“Fuck  _ off _ , Karen! Nobody wants to be at fucking a baby shower, much less yours! Who even  _ is  _ the father-”

“ _ Me _ .” Both Peter and Todd responded at the same time, which sent the two men into a bitter staring contest, trying to kill each other with their gaze alone. Arcus slowly shuffled away from the trio and towards the Entity, who at this point seemed like a safer bet than the baby mama drama going on.

“Okay.” The Entity turned itself around to look through its fog into the worlds it had a grip on. “You two can fight over who fucked her when in what position, I’m going to find Shadow and obliterate her soul. Arcus… feel free to come and join me.”

Arcus looked at the arguing men, and then back at the Entity, then back at the men again, and then back at the Entity. “I...suppose.” The Entity descended and offered a leg, which Arcus gladly climbed on and the Entity took him up to look out of the Fog.

“If you find her first, I’ll return you to your world.” The Entity offered Arcus. He could feel the man’s eyes glued on the world's circling in front of him as they both searched for Shadow.

_ Goes to show you can’t rely on millenials. _


End file.
